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THE 



COMPLETE WORKS 



OP 



EDWARD PAYSON, D. D. 







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R-cTyX. 



MEMOIR 



SELECT THOUaHTS 



OF THE LATE 



KEY. EDWARD PAYSON, D. D, 



BENE ORASSE EST BENE STUDUISSE.— Lothee. 



COMPILED BY 



REV. ASA CUMMINGS. 
I) 



PHILADELPHIA: 
PUBLISHED BY J. & J. L. GIHOIS 

No. 98 CHESNUT STREET. 
1851. 



PREFACE 



The publications from Dr. Payson's pen have been chiefly posthumous. 
Three Sermons only, and an Address to Seamen, were printed in his life-time. 
Besides these, no other productions of his were written with the remotest 
reference to the press. They are just such as he was accustomed to prepare 
and preach, at the rate of three a week, for most of the time during a minis- 
try of twenty years. 

Within a few months of Dr. Payson's decease, which occun-ed in the au- 
tunm of 1827, a volume of his Sermons, in the octavo form, was pubhshed; 
two years later, a Memou- of his Life ; afterwards a second volume of Ser- 
mons, in a form and at a price to render its acquisition generally available ; 
later still, a smaller volume, entitled Family Sermons ; and near the same 
time, a miniature volume of his " Thoughts," collected and prepared for the 
press by his daughter, since Mrs. Hopkins, which has passed through suc- 
cessive editions, and been much valued by devout readers. 

The original Memoir was frequently re-printed, from stereotype plates, 
through fom- or five years from the date of its first appearance, when the 
plates were destroyed in a calamitous fire. No step was taken to renew 
them, as it was thought, that the American Tract Society's issues of an 
abridgment, which had been made as the result of an honorable negociation, 
might possibly satisfy the public demand. 

Inquiries for the entire Memoir, as well as for the Sermons, both of which 
have been long out of piint, having become fi-equent of late, proposals were 
made by the present pubUshers for a new emission ; and this edition, in three 
large volumes of uniform size and appearance, is the result 

The first volume embraces the Memoir, Select Thoughts, and six additional 
pieces, all of which, except the last, are entirely new to the public, and were 
chosen from a mass, as possessing much to interest the Christian reader, and 
as harmonizing with the preceding portions of the volume. 

The second and tMrd volumes are occupied exclusively with Sermons ; 



VI PREFACE. 

tlie former is wholly a re-print; tlie third contains twenty-six new Sermons; 
numbered 50 to G8, inclusive, 70, 74, 89, 90, 95, 9G, 97. Two Sermons, the 
49th and 94th, were originally published singly, and now, for the first time, 
take their place in a volume. In the first and thu'd volumes will be found 
matter equivalent to thirty-one Sermons, never before printed, much of it 
not inferior to Dr. Payson's most valued productions, — glowing with the 
same pious zeal and earnest eloquence, in defence of God's truth, and in the 
enforcement of human duty, and distinguished by the same vivid and forcible 
illustration. The introductory notice,by Professor Stowe, whose former re- 
lations to Dr. Payson were pre-emuiently favorable to a just appreciation of 
his qualities, renders any attempt to characterize the Sermons, in this place, 
wholly unnecessary. 

The reader will observe, that sentences and passages taken fron; the Scrip- 
tures are, in these Sermons, rarely distinguished by quotation marks. Such 
a mode of distinguishing them was soon found to be unnecessarj^, as Dr. 
Payson's manner of introducing quotations from the Bible indicates their 
source with nearly the same certainty and precision as the ordinary sign. 

The essential characteristics of the Memoir remain, as at first presented. 
The feature most obnoxious to censure is its melancholy. From the detail 
of desponding feelings, doubts and temptations, unhappy consequences to the 
reader were apprehended and predicted by persons whose judgment was 
entitled to respect; but these could not have been wholly concealed, witkout 
the sacrifice of historical verity. Besides, we are liable to err in judging, 
a priori, of such writings. Dr. Payson, contrai^ to maternal fears, was re- 
lieved, comforted, and instructed, by reading of the melancholy workings of 
(;!owper's mind, ashave been many persons by reading those of Payson's. A 
number of remarkable instances of such relief have come to the editor'^? 
knowledge ; among them that of a totally disheartened minister of the gos- 
] el. He had renounced his work in despair, and, as he thought, forever ; 
but was re-animated, and recalled to the active duties of his office by reading 
ot die despondency and struggles of Payson's mind, over which grace caused 
hiin at length to triumjjh. We should suppose, that such desponding, and, 
it might almost be said, deistical sentiments, as ai'e recorded in the first part 
of the seventy-third psalm, would be very injurious to the reader; whereas 
their real effect is to give force, impressiveness and beauty to the language 
which follows, so inimitably expressive of strong faith in God, and confidence 
in his providential government. In like manner, should the reader feel op- 
pressed by the distressing exercises which are detailed in some of the follow- 
ing chapters, let him glance, for a moment, to their issue, and find relief in 
contemplating the tiiumphs of Payson's later days. 



PREFACE. .VII 

Further ; it may appear on reflection, that there could be no adequate 
exhibition of the degree of Dr. Payson's piety, without a corresponding ex- 
hibition of the obstacles against which he had to contend. That he did 
tiiumphantly surmount them all, is a fact full of encouragement to the 
tempted, desponding Christian. Indeed, it strips persons of this description 
of their last excuse for not persevering and rising superior to all difficulties ; 
for where is the individual, whose constitutional hinderances to a peaceful 
and constant progi-ess in piety are more hard to be vanquished, or more 
aggravated by bodily maladies ? Who then can succumb, since he has come 
off victor ? 

It may also deserve consideration, whether the development of sorrows 
and depressions, as given in the former part of this volume, is not, on the 
whole, necessary to "justify the ways of God to men;" whether it is not in 
agreement with the laws which God observes in the arrangements of his 
providence and in the dispensations of his grace, that attainments should 
bear a due proportion to the efforts by which they were acquired ; that con- 
flict should precede victory ; that they who would " reap in joy " should 
" sow in tears ? " Now, it is well known that Dr. Payson's attainments in 
religion were far above the ordinary standard ; his spiritual joys transcended, 
possibly, those of any other tenant of earth. Let the the reader, after having 
examined his history throughout, say whether the " seed " is disproportionate 
to the "fruit." 

It does not affect this argument, that many of the exercises and affections, 
of which he was the subject, have no necessary connexion with rehgion. 
Some of them, it will be seen in the progress of the work, have been laid 
out of the account, in estimating his personal religion. They are too plainly 
and too bitterly characterized by himself, to be mistaken for objects of ration- 
al or pious desire. Still, however, where they have not a criminal origin, 
ihey may properly be ranked with other afflictions, which although not good 
in themselves, ai-e often known to " work out the peaceable fruits of right- 
eousness." 

The suggestion has also occurred, whether the records which have been 
transferred to the following pages were not specially furnished by Providence 
to meet an existing exigency of the Christian Chm'ch. The great enterprises 
in which she is engaged, necessarily modify the instructions of her teachers, 
as well as the duties of her members. They are constantly exhorted to 
action, as indeed they should be. It is an active, not a contemplcdive age. The 
business of Christians is, in fact, withovt, among their fellow creatures; not 
within, in communion with their own hearts. These circumstances, conspir- 
ing with man's natm*al aversion to self examination, and the paramount 



Vlll PREFACE. 

difficulty of the duty, may bring on a deplorable inattention to the heart; 
they certainly will, if relative duties be regarded as a substitute for j)rivate 
devotion. The Church should look to it, that the springs of holy action be 
not dried up. The benevolent operations of the age vv^ere set in motion by 
men of such deep and heart-pervading piety as Payson's. Such piety must 
continue to urge them onw^ard, or their movements vv^ill be sluggish and 
inefficient. The two classes of duties will here be seen to have received 
merited attention, and their reciprocal influence will be scarcely less obvious. 
In executing his extremely delicate and responsible task, the compiler has 
had occasion to feel the value of the counsel and the promise, which are 
addressed to those who "lack wisdom;" and can take no praise to himselfj 
that his errors of judgment have not been more numerous and more flagrant. 
May God attend the perusal of these volumes, notwithstanding editorial im- 
perfections, with his gracious benediction. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE. 

CHAPTER I. 

Uses of religious biography. Birth of Edward Payson. His early im- 
pressions ; intellectual qualities ; filial and fraternal conduct ; moral 
character. His literary education } enters Harvard College ; his reputation 
there. - - - - 13 

CHAPTER II. 

Comprising a period of three years from the time of his leaving college. 25 

CHAPTER III. 

His religious history during the period embraced in the preceding chap- 
ter. 42 

CHAPTER IV. 

Retires to Rindge, and devotes himself exclusively to his preparation for 
the ministry. 73 

CHAPTER V. 

His state of mind in the immediate prospect of the ministry. - 94 

CHAPTER VI. 

His first efforts as a preacher. His religious character further developed. 106 

CHAPTER VII. 

Visits Portland, — his favorable reception, and Ordination. - - - 124 

CHAPTER VIII. 

His concern for his flock. Reverse in his temporal prospects. Is taken 
from his v^ork by sickness. - - - - 140 

CHAPTER IX. 

Resumes his pastoral labors. Letters. Reviev\r of the year. 154 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER X. 

HJ8 dependence on God ; its influence on himself and church. His uni- 
form purpose to know nothing save Jesus Christ and Him crucified. 
Illustration. Letters. Resolutions. Increased success. - - - 170 

CHAPTER XI. 

Permanency and strength of maternal influence. Correspondence. 
Death-bed anguish, how alleviated. Disgraceful incident. Price of popu- 
larity. Reasons of former trials developed. Letters, &c. ... 189 

CHAPTER XII. 

Holy aspirations. Gratitude to the Saviour. Multiplied labors. Novel 
family scene. Danger averted. " Curious frame." Flattery deprecated. 
His marriage. Becomes sole pastor of the church. Retrospect of the 
year. - - 202 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Forms of prayer. Thoughts on publip prayer. His sincerity. The im- 
portance of this quality to a minister's success. 220 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The pastor in action. Methods of exciting, sustaining and extending a 
due interest in religious concerns. Preaching, administration of ordinan- 
ces, church fast, conference, inquiry meetings. 243 

CHAPTER XV. 

The same subject. Bible class. Pastoral visits. Social parties. Special 
and casual interviews. Charm of his conversation. Singular rencounter. 
Whence his competency. His publications. 274 

CHAPTER XVI. 

His exertions without the bounds of his parish. Influence on his minis- 
terial associates ; in resuscitating and edifying other churches. Visits 
"The Springs." Effect of his example, conversation, and prayers on 
other visitors. Excursions in behalf of charitable societies. Translation 
of ministers. He is invited to Boston and New York. - - - - 291 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Letters to persons in various circumstances and states of mind. - - 308 

CHAPTER XVIII, 

Hie private character. His affections and demeanor as a husband, father, 
master, friend. His gratitude, economy, generosity. His temper of mind 
under injuries. - 337 



CONTENTS.' XI 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Further particulars relating to his personal history, and religious exercises, 

in connexion with his pastoral labors and their results. ... - 354 

CHAPTER XX. 

His last labors. His spiritual joys, heavenly counsels, and brightening 
intellect, during the progress of his disease. His triumphant exit. Conclu- 
sion. 394 

SELECT THOUGHTS. 

God, 459 

Eternity of God, 460 

Love of God, 460 

Wisdom of God, 461 

Living to God, -.--.----- 461 

Can Creatures glorify God.-* .---.--- 462 

Reverence for God, ..------ 462 

Duty of loving God, --------- 463 

Preferring Creatures to God, ------ 464 

Excellence of God, -.-------- 464 

Submission to God, - - - - - - - -•- 465 

Necessity of Submission, ---------467 

Sin of Unbelief, 463 

Human Depravity, .------.-. 46D 

. Robbing God, 470 

Love of the World, 470 

Neglect of the Bible, - - - - 471 

Neglect of Prayer, ...--.--. 471 

Forbearance of God, .------.- 472 

Man's Dependence, ..----- - 47^J 

To the Impenitent, .---. _-- 474 

God angry with Sinners, .-------. 475 

Motives to Repentance, >------- 47G 

Objections answered, .-------- 477 

Folly of Objectors, - 47-5 

Insufficiency of Reason, ------- - 479 

Natural Religion, '480 

Folly of Objectors, 481 

Punishment of Sinners, -------- 482 

No Peace to Sinners, ----.---- 483 

Sinners' Thoughts painful, ..------, 483 

Saint's Armor, ...-------. 484 

Grounds of false Peace, ..----.. 485 

Conscience, .-.------.- 485 

A wounded Spirit, ...------ 486 

Unwillingness to be saved, .-----.. 488 

Excuses answered, ..------. 488 

Peace in believing, .-.------- 489 



XII CONTENTS. 

Effects of Conversion, 491 

The Self-confident, 493 

Christians dissimilar, .--.-- -- 493 

Tests of Piety, 4!)4 

Fear and Hope, .-..----.- 495 

The Law honored, ..----- -- 496 

Adam our Representative, --...--- 49^ 

Christ bore our Sins, .----- _- 49>j 

Psalm Ixxxv. 10, 11, 499 

Grounds of Pardon, --.-... -- 50U 

Plan of Redemption, ..--..--. 500 

The World without Christ, - - - 502 

The Gospel glad Tidings, 50:i 

Christ our Example, --..- _._ 504 

Christ a Teacher, 504 

Reasons for loving Christ, .-.-.-.. 505 

Christ the best Friend, - - - - - - - 506 

Invitations of Christ, -------.- 506 

Christ's Displeasure at Sin, ------- 507 

Death of Christ, 508 

Sufferings of Christ, .---..... 508 

Love of Christ, 509 

Self-denial of Christ, 510 

Christ's Reward, --..--.... 511 

Condescension of Christ, -•--.--- 512 

Language of Penitence, - - - - - -- - - 513 

Communion with God, -...-... 51.-) 

Call to Christians, ---.....- 51(3 

Union with Christ, -•-....-- 51^ 

The Christian's Consolation, ------- 519 

Christ unchangeable, --------- 53^2 

Christ a Helper, 523 

My Beloved is mine, -..-.--.. 524 

The Bible entirely practical, ------.- 524 

Duty of studying the Bible, ------ 524 

Prayer, 525 

Praise, 52G 

The Lord's Supper, 527 

Relative Duties of Christians, --.--.. 52s 
Love one another, - - - - - - - . - -529 

Universal Law of Benevolence, ------- 530 

Duties to the Heathen, -------., 530 

Religious Consistency, - - - - . . 531 

Christ glorified in his Church, ••---.. 533 

Miscellaneous Directions to Christians, ----- 534 

The Way to cure a Covetous Spirit, 534 

O Death ! where is thy Sting ?-----.- 535 

To the Ministers of Christ, -----..- 536 

Happiness of Heaven, - . 537 



CONTENTS. X"I 

A Jewel for your Crown. - _---_-_ 530 

The Doubting comforted. -------- 539 

The wounded Dove. ----------- 540 



CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE. 

Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what Ixe hath 
done for my soul. — Psalm lxvi. 16. 541 

BLESSED RECIPROCITY. 

My Beloved is mine, and I am his. — Song ii. 16. - - - - 552 

SEARCHING RETROSPECTION. 

Now of the things which we have spoken unto you, this is the sum. — 
Heb. VIII. 1. - - 561 

THE NEW JERUSALEM. 

And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it; 
for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. — 
Rev. XXI. 23. 574 

GOD IN THE MIDST OF HIS CHURCH. 

In that day it shall be said to Jerusalem, Fear thou not ; and to Zion, Let 
not thy hands be slack. The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty ; 
he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy ; he will rest in his love ; 
he will joy over thee with singing. — Zephaniah hi. 16, 17. - - 587 

ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 
Delivered before the Portland Marine Bible Society, Oct. 28, 1821. 597 



MEMOIR. 



CHAPTER I. 



Uses of religious biography. Birth of Edwai'd Payson. His early impres- 
sions ; intellectual quahties ; filial and fi-aternal conduct ; moral character. 
His literaiy education ; enters Harvard College ; his reputation tliere. 



Evangelical virtue is best understood, when it is seen embod- 
ied, — operating, and yielding its appropriate fruits, in the person 
of a moral agent. Thus seen, it is also most influential for 
good. The living evidences of the truth and power of Chris- 
tianity will sooner silence a caviller, than the best constructed 
and most labored argument : they are more thoroughly convinc- 
ing, more practically efficacious. Moral phenomena are wit- 
nessed, unlike and infinitely superior to those which result from 
any other system. Qualities of character display themselves, 
bearing unequivocal marks of a heavenly origin, and of a heav- 
enly tendency. Hence, the friends of the Redeemer have always 
esteemed it a no less useful than pleasant service, to preserve and 
hand down memorials of such as have been eminent for the 
savor and strength of their piety, the ardor and steadfastness of 
tlieir devotion, and the abundance and success of their labors 
in the cause of Christ. Nor does the value of such a memorial 
depend upon the freedom from imperfection of him whom it 
commemorates, so much as upon the degree of resistance which 
he has overcome in his progress towards " the mark of our high 



14 



MEMOIR OF 



calling." To secure the object contemplated by such a memori- 
al, it is not necessary to hold up the character as faultless, nor 
even to magnify its excellencies, or extenuate its defects. A 
strict adherence to truth, and a just representation of facts, will 
not only be safest for man, but most effectually exalt the grace 
of God. That apostle, who labored more abundantly than his 
fellows, recognises it as among the causes why he had obtained 
mercy, who was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and in- 
jurious, that he "might be a pattern to them who should hereaf- 
ter believe." The heart, alive to its guilt and wretchedness, 
would sink in everlasting despondency, if it might not revert to 
the "chief of sinners," as among the number whom Christ came 
to save, and who have actually obtained salvation. The dis- 
couragements arising from inbred sin, in all its countless varie- 
ties of operation, would depress the Christian almost beyond 
recovery, but for the recorded experience of others, weighed 
down by the pressure of similar burdens, who finally came off 
conquerors, "through Him who loved them." From the "great 
fight of afilictions," which his elder brethren, who have preced- 
ed him in the weary pilgrimage, have "endured," and the terrible 
conflicts with passion and temptation which they have survived, 
he may learn, that his case is not singular ; that, however fiery 
the trial to which he is subjected, still "no strange thing hath 
happened unto him." There is no unholy bias of the heart, no 
easily besetting sin, no violence of passion, no force of tempta- 
tion, which has not been vanquished by faith in things unseen; 
and that, too, in circumstances as unfavorable to victory, as any 
in which men now are, or probably, ever will be placed. Ene- 
mies as virulent and formidable as any that lie in wait for our 
souls, have been successfully resisted, — trials as disheartening, 
and struggles as desperate, as any that await our faith, have 
been met, sustained, surmounted by men "of like passions with 
ourselves." "Out of the depths they cried unto the Lord, and 
were heard ; they overcame through the blood of the Lamb." 

Nor will the benefit be limited to the fervent believer, in his 
spiritual conflicts. These monumental records will meet the 
eye of him, A^ho "has a name to live while he is dead ;" and 
they are adapted, beyond most other means, to break his fatal 
slumber, to excite salutary apprehensions in his mind, and fas- 
ten there the. unwelcome, but needful conviction, that he has 



EDWARDPAYSON. 15 

*' neither part nor lot" in the Christian's inheritance. The marked 
contrast, which he cannot fail to observe, between the opera- 
tions of a mind animated by the Spirit, and glowing with the 
love of God, and those of which he is himself conscious ; be- 
tween the moral achievements of a man, carried forward by 
the steady energies of a purifying faith, and the few and slug- 
gish efforts, which fill up his own history, — can hardly fail to 
reveal him to himself, as one "weighed in the balance and 
found wanting." He reads of exertions, which he never put 
forth ; of humiliation and self-denial, which he never practised ; 
of confessions, which his heart never dictated ; of exercises, 
which he never experienced ; of hopes and prospects, by which 
his own bosom was never gladdened. In the character of the 
determined Christian, he discerns a renunciation of self, and a 
godly jealousy over the workings of the heart, naturally deceit- 
ful above all things, which are totally at war with his own self- 
confidence. He learns, that under all varieties of outward 
condition, self-mortification is still an eminent characteristic of 
the follower of Christ ; that no man, who warreth, entangleth 
himself with the affairs of this world ; that the expectant of the 
crown of righteousness is no more exempted from the agonizuig 
strife to obtain it, than he was in the days of primitive Chris- 
tianity. In the modern believer, if his faith be not "dead," you 
identify the grand features of that religion, which sanctified, 
controlled, and supported apostles and martyrs. 

The uses of religious biography extend further still. It is the 
means, under God. of attaching to the cause of Zion, men of 
great energy and moral worth, — magnanimous in purpose, 
wise in counsel, vigorous and persevering in action. In how 
many, who have done valiantly for the truth, has the flame of 
holy zeal and enterprise been first kindled at the pages which 
record the religious experience and evangelical labors of Baxter, 
Brainerd, Edwards, Martyn, and others of a kindred spirit, — 
who, but for these memorials, would have been lost to the 
Church of Christ, and perhaps have become her most deter- 
mined foes ! The "children of this world" understand the influ- 
ence of such writings, and wisely preserve every thing that is 
memorable in their heroes, philosophers, poets, and artists, that 
youth may emulate their enthusiasm, and act over their achieve- 
ments. And though it may be true, that "modern biography 



16 M E M O I R F 

has been too busily and curiously employed in enrolling and 
blazoning names, which will scarcely outlive the records of the 
grave-stone," still "it is not easy to estimate the loss, which is 
sustained by the Christian community, when an example of 
eminent sanctity and heroic zeal is defrauded of its just honors, 
wlien a living epistle of apostolic piety is suffered to perish : or, 
to change the figure, when the lamp kindled by a holy life, 
which might have shone to posterity, is suffered to go out." 

If Christians in the ordinary walks of life need the stimulus 
of such examples, much more does the minister of the cross. 
He has his full portion in the trials and discouragements, that 
are common to all believers ; and his mind is also familiar with 
causes for '-great heaviness and sorrow of heart," in which 
they can but feebly sympathize. In addition to his own personal 
security, he is in a manner responsible for that of his flock. 
Besides working out his own salvation, the care of others' souls 
bears upon him with a pressure which none can conceive Avho has 
not felt its weight. And when he has toiled long and hard, with 
little or no visible success, and is tempted to exclaim, " It is a 
vain thing to serve the Lord !" or, when exhausted by continual 
labor, and racked by bodily infirmities, he is in danger of re- 
garding himself as exempted from the obligation to make any 
further exertions ; it may preserve him from sinking, and stim- 
ulate him to new action, to know that his fellow-laborers in 
the kingdom and patience of Jesus have then been most 
singularly blessed, when they thought themselves forsaken ; 
have out of weakness been made strong, and, under the endur- 
ance of great physical debility, and the most exquisite mental 
anguish, gained the most splendid trophies under the Captain 
of Salvation. Can the " cloud of witnesses " of this description 
be too much increased for the ''consideration " of those, who are 
" wearied and faint in their minds '?" Can any, to whom God 
affords the^ opportunity, be excusable in neglecting to erect an 
additional monument in the " temple of Christianity," and to 
conduct thither the desponding, though uniformly faithful min- 
ister, where he may behold " the names, and the statues, and 
the recorded deeds, of the heroes of the church, and the spoils 
they have won in the battles of the Lord?" 

It is with such views alone, that the present work is attempt- 
ed. The hope, that good results will be realized, is not the less 



EDWARDPAYSON. 17 

confidentj because the materials to which access has been had, 
are of the least imposing pretensions. It promises little of inci- 
dent or adventure, — qualities which, with many, constitute the 
principal attractions of a book. It is the history of a single 
mind, rather than of a community ; of a pastor — whose sphere of 
labor was chiefly limited to his parochial charge — not a mis- 
sionary, whose " field is the world," and who has traversed 
seas and continents, and associated his own history with that 
of diiFerent climates and governments, and opinions. The 
Christian hero will not here be presented in direct collision with 
the principalities and powers of this world, whether Pagan or 
Papal ; but in an attitude not less generally instructive — that 
of one " whose warfare is within." and who successfully 
applied the results of his agonizing and joyful experience in 
training, 

By evei7 rule 
Of holy discipline, to glorious war, 
The sacramental host of God's elect. 

But he will shine, with the brightness of one who has turned 
many to righteousness, in that world where the judgment of 
character, and the estimate of services, are according to truth, 
and not affected by what is dazzling in the stations or circum- 
stances in which men have acted. 



Edward Payson was born at Rindge, New Hampshire, July 
25th, 1783. His father was the Rev. Seth Payson, D. D., 
pastor of the church in Rindge, a man of piety and public 
spirit, distinguished as a clergyman, and favorably known as 
an author. His mother, Grata Payson, was a distant relative 
of her husband, their lineage, after being traced back a few gen- 
erations, meeting in the same stock. To the Christian fidelity of 
these parents there is the fullest testimony 'in the subsequent 
and repeated acknowledgments of their son, who habitually 
attributed his religious hopes, as well as his usefulness in life, 
under God, to their instructions, example, and prayers^ — espec- 
ially those of his mother. She appears to have admitted him 
to the most intimate, unreserved, and confiding intercourse, 
which was yet so wisely conducted, as to strengthen rather than 
diminish his filial reverence ; to have cherished a remarkable 

VOL. I. Q 



18 MEMOIROF 

inquisitiveness of mindj which early discovered itself in him ; 
!ind to have patiently heard and replied to the almost endless 
inquiries, which his early thirst for knowledge led him to pro- 
pose. His father was not less really and sincerely interested 
lor the welfare of his son ; but, from the nature of the relation, 
and the calls of official duty, his attentions to the early training 
of the child must have been less frequent, and his instructions 
have partaken of a more set and formal character. With the 
mother, however, opportunities were always occurring, and she 
seems to have been blessed with the faculty and disposition to 
turn them to the best advantage. Edward's recollections of her 
extended back to very early childhood ; and he has been heard 
to say, that though she was very solicitous that he might be 
liberally educated, and receive every accomplishment, which 
Avould increase his respectability and influence in the world, yet 
he could distinctly see, that the supreme, the all-absorbing con- 
cern of her soul respecting him, was, that he might become a 
child of God. This manifested itself in her discipline, her 
counsels, expostulations, and prayers, which were followed up 
with a perseverance that nothing could check. And they were 
not in vain. From the first development of his moral powers, 
his mind was more or less affected by his condition and pros- 
pects as a sinner. It is among the accredited traditions of his 
family, that he was often known to weep under the preaching 
of the gospel, when only three years old. About this period, 
loo, he would frequently call his mother to his bed-side to con- 
verse on religion, and to answer numerous questions respecting 
his relations to God and the future world. How long this 
seriousness continued, or to what interruptions it was subjected, 
does not clearly appear ; nor is much known as to the peculiar 
character of his exercises at that time. But that they were not 
mere transient impressions, seems highly probable from the fact, 
that, in subsequent years, his mother was inclined to the belief, 
that he was converted in childhood. There was some other 
cause than maternal partiality for this opinion, as she did not 
cherish it alone. Besides, his intimate friends have reason for 
believing, that he never neglected secret prayer while a resident 
in his father's family. The evidences of his piety, however, 
were, at this period, far from being conclusive; he, at least, 
does not a]^pear to have regarded them as such; neither 



EDWARD PAYSON. 19 

were they so regarded by his father, who had earnestly desired 
to see him a decided follower of the Redeemer, before encoun- 
tering the dangers to religions principle and pure morals, which 
are sometimes found within the walls of a college. 

How far those mental qualities, which distinguished Dr. 
Payson's maturity, were apparent in his early days, cannot now 
be known; for, though he died comparatively young, his 
parents had gone before him, and their surviving children were 
all younger than this son. Strictly speaking, therefore, no com- 
panion of his childhood survives. The very few incidents 
belonging to this period of his history, which have escaped 
oblivion, though not adequate to satisfy curiosity, are, on the 
whole, characteristic, and afford undoubted indications, that his 
well-known decision, enterprise, and perseverance, had dawned 
even in childhood. 

That he was a minute observer of nature, and highly suscep- 
tible of emotions from the grand and beautiful in the handy 
works of God, must be obvious to all who have listened to his 
conversation or his preaching. His taste for the sublime very 
early discovered itself. During a tempest, he might be seen 
exposed on the top of the fence, or some other eminence, while 
the lightnings played and the thunders rolled around him, sit- 
ting in delightful composure, and enjoying the sublimity of the 
scene.* 

He is said to have manifested an early predilection for arith- 
metic; and was a tolerable proficient in the art of reading at the 

* Beattie's Minstrel, it seems, is not a mere creatm*e of the imagination ! 
And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, 
Wlien all in mist the world below was lost. 
What dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublime, 
Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast, 
And view th' enormous waste of vapor, tost 
In billows, lengthening to th' horizon round, 
Now scooped in gulfs, with mountains now emboss'd ! 
And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound. 
Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound ! 

In' truth, he was a strange and wayward wight, 
y Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene. 

In darkness and in storm he found delight 



20 MEMOIR OF 

age of four years — an art, which no man ever employed to 
better advantage. Tlie surprismg quickness, with which he 
would transfer to his own mind the contents of a book, at a 
time when a new book was a greater rarity than it now is, 
threatened to exhaust his sources of information through this 
medium. All the books in his father's collection, and the 
*' Parish Library," which were of a character suited to his age 
and attainments, were read before he left the paternal home, 
and retained with such tenacity of memory, as to be ever after 
available for illustrating truths, or enlivening and embeUishing 
discourse. 

It is natural to inquire, whether there was anything in the 
circumstances of his early youth, which will account for his 
mental habits, and especially the rapidity of his intellectual 
operations. A partial answer may be found in the fact, that his 
time was divided between labor and study. His father, like 
most ministers of country parishes, derived the means of sup- 
porting his family, in part, from a farm, which his sons assisted 
in cultivating. From his share in these agricultural labors the 
subject of this Memoir was not exempted, particularly in the 
"busy seasons" of the year. But, whatever were his employ- 
ment, though he appears to have engaged in it with cheerful- 
ness, and to have prosecuted it with fidelity, his thirst for 
knowledge was the ruling passion of his soul. This he sought 
to quench, or rather to cherish, by resorting to his book at every 
interval from toil, however short, when he tasked his mind to 
the utmost of its power, intent on making the greatest possible 
acquisitions in a given time. His mind, though strung up to the 
highest pitch of exertion at these seasons, suffered no injury 
thereby, as it was so soon diverted from its employment by a 
call to the field ; and every repetition of the process extended its 
capability and power. The acquisitions, in this way obtained, 
furnished materials on which to employ his thoughts while en- 
gaged in manual labor, which he would not fail to digest and 
lay up in store for future use, — a voluntary discipline of most 
auspicious influence, as it respects the facility of acquiring 
knowledge, and the power of retaining it. 

His early literary, as well as moral and religious education, is 
believed to have been conducted principally by his parents, 
except the studies preparatory to college, which were pursued, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 21 

in part at least, at the Academy in New Ipswich. His prepar- 
atory course was completed before the long and fondly-cher- 
ished desires of his father respecting his personal piety were 
realized. Still the good man could hardly cherish the thought 
of conferring on his son the advantages of a public education, 
without an assurance, grounded on evidences of experimental 
religion, that he would employ his attainments for the best good 
of his fellow men, and the glory of his Maker. With reference 
to this essential requisite, he used much earnest expostulation, 
and even went so far as to say to him, ''To give you a liberal 
education, while destitute of religion, would be like putting a 
sword into the hands of a mad man." 

Whether the father was led to adopt such strong language, 
from having observed in his son the existence of those proper- 
ties, which, in their future development, were to give him such 
power over his species, or whether it proceeded merely from 
anxiety to transfer his own feelings and convictions to the mind 
of his son, — there does not appear to have been, in either the 
disposition or conduct of the latter, any particular cause for 
unusual apprehensions respecting him. His filial affection and 
conduct had been, and ever continued to be, most exemplary, as 
manifested by his letters when absent, and by his reverence for 
his parents and cheerful obedience when at home. His frater- 
nal feelings were kind, and his conduct towards his brothers 
and sisters faithful and affectionate. By them he was greatly 
beloved, and his vacations, when he should visit home, and 
mingle again in the domestic circle, were anticipated with de- 
lightful interest as the halcyon days of their lives. His moral 
character comes down to us, even from the first, without a 
blemish ; and, by consent of all, he sustained the reputation of 
a magnanimous, honorable, generous youth. 

His father, as is obvious from the event, had formed no 
peremptory and unalterable purpose to wait for the certain 
fruits of personal religion, before sending him to college ; and 
the real cause of hesitancy was, probably, the tender age and 
inexperience of the son. The interval of his detention was a 
favorable season for the application of religious motives. As 
such it was improved by this solicitous parent, and not in vain ; 
for his faithful suggestions and appeals were afterwards recalled 
by the object of his solicitude, with most grateful and impres- 



22 MEMOIROF 

sive interest. Young Payson, though detained from college, 
was permitted to pursue his studies, — but whether exclusively, 
or in connexion with other employments, does not appear, 
till he was fitted to join the Sophomore class ; when, all objec- 
tions being waived, he entered Harvard College, at an advanced 
standing, at the Commencement in 1800, about the time he com- 
pleted his seventeenth year. 

He had now a new ordeal to pass — a severe test for both his 
talents and character. Many a youth, who was regarded as a 
prodigy of genius in his native parish, or in a country village, 
and who anticipated the same eminence at the seat of science, 
has found himself sadly disappointed, in being obliged to take 
his rank below mediocrity. Thus it had nearly fared with 
Payson during the first months of his residence at college — not 
that he was destiute of real worth : but there were circumstan- 
ces, which prevented that worth from being appreciated. The 
first impressions respecting him did him injustice. "You would 
have taken him," says a classmate, "for an unpolished country 
lad; exceedingly modest, unassuming, and reserved in his man- 
ners. And, as we generally look for a long time at the words 
and actions of a character through the same medium by which 
he was first presented to us, his merit was for a long time 
unknown." This judging from appearances is, perhaps, una- 
voidable, though often very injurious. In the greenness of his 
youth, Mr. Payson's modesty might easily be mistaken for bash- 
fulness; as through life he had much of a downcast look, hold- 
ing his eyes inclined to the earth, except when warmly engaged 
in conversation ; then they would beam most expressively; and 
when addressing an audience from the pulpit, they would " pry 
through the portals of the head," and give a thrilling emphasis 
to the language of his lips. 

Mr. Payson's classmate, just quoted, and who also occupied 
the same rooms with him during the whole period of his resi- 
dence at college, bears decided testimony to the purity of his 
morals, and the regularity of his habits, as well as other estima- 
ble qualities. With his intimate friends, he was social, com- 
municative, and peculiarly interesting and improving, and by 
those who best knew him, was much beloved. He was dis- 
tinguished for his industry ; his first care always was to get his 
lesson, which engaged him but a short time, and then he would 



EDWARDrAYSON. 23 

resume his reading. He was invariably prepared to meet his 
instructor, prompt in reciting, and seldom committed a mistake. 
His manner of rehearsing was rapid, his tone of voice low, 
with a kind of instinctive shrinking from everything which had 
tlie appearance of display. Hence, for a full year, his talents 
and scholarship were underrated by his associates and teachers 
generally at college; but "after having been with him a few 
months, I was convinced that he possessed uncommon ■ mental 
powers. Others knew not this^ because they knew not the 
man. During the latter part of his collegiate course, as he be- 
came more known, he rose rapidly in the estimation of both the 
grovernment and his classmates, as a young man of correct 
morals, amiable disposition, and respectable talents." 

The testimony of another classmate agrees with this as to 
the general character of the man, but is more discriminating 
and positive in reference to his merits as a scholar. " The cir- 
cumstance of joining his class at an advanced standing, com- 
bined with his naturally retiring and unobtrusive manners, 
contributed, probably, to his being so little known to a large 
portion of his college contemporaries, who seemed scarcely 
aware that his talents were of that high order, by which he 
was soon afterwards so eminently distinguished. Yet, even at 
that early period, he manifested an energy, hardihood, and per- 
severance of character, which were sure indications of success, 
in whatever course he might eventually direct his professional 
pursuits. In the regular course of college studies, pursued at 
the time of his residence at Cambridge, he maintained the rep- 
utation of a respectable scholar in every branch. Intellectual 
and moral philosophy were more to his taste than physical 
science; yet he sustained a distinguished rank in the higher 
branches of the mathematics, as well as natural philosophy and 
astronomy, at that time so unpopular, and so little under- 
stood by a large proportion of the students." This account of 
his standing as a scholar was the best which could be con- 
structed from the information in the compiler's possession at the 
time of preparing the first edition of this work ; and the ac- 
count closed with the following remark : "It is not remembered, 
that there was any public recognition of distinguished merit in 
him, at the time he commenced Bachelor of Arts." For this 
there was a very good reason, for which the writer is indebted 



24 MEMOIROF 

to the kindness of the late Rev. Joseph Emerson, himself a dis- 
tinguished scholar, and eminent teacher, and who was actually 
the Tutor of Mr. Payson's class, during their Junior and Senior 
years. Mr. E. without any hesitation assigned Mr. Payson's 
rank among the first quarter of his class, and sustained his own 
judgment, by quoting that of another clergyman, whose com- 
petency to give an opinion on the question is beyond all dispute. 
This clergyman, who was also a classmate of Payson, is confi- 
dent that a forensic disputation, a very honorable part, was 
assigned to the latter for performance at Commencement, which 
failed in consequence of the indisposition of his much respected 
associate, since the Rev. Dr. . 

Mr. E., moreover, thought it injurious to the cause of literary 
improvement, that the pupilage of such a man as Dr. Payson 
should be represented as manifesting no more than ordinary 
scholarship ; and not being accordant with fact, the representa- 
tion is equally injurious to his memory. As far as a pretty ex- 
tensive observation has enabled me to judge, continues Mr. E., 
the college-standing of students is, in general, a good index of 
their respectability the rest of their days. 

The reputation of being "a great reader,'' as the phrase is 
often applied, is a very undesirable distinction ; it is one, how- 
ever, which Mr. Payson bore in common with thousands, who 
are not the wiser for their reading. His frequent resort to the 
college library was a theme of raillery with his fellow students, 
who, at one time, represented him as having "a machine to 
turn over the leaves;" and at another, as "having left off taking 
out books, because he had read all the thousands in the alcoves 
of old Harvard." Ridicule, in his case, was egregiously misap- 
plied; for, says his constant companion in the study and in the 
dormitory, ''every thing he read, he made his own. He had the 
strongest and most tenacious memory I ever knew. It is truly 
astonishing with what rapidity he could read; how soon he 
could devour a large volume, and yet give the most particular 
and accurate account of its contents." Testimonies of the 
same kind might be multiplied, and confirmed by many anec- 
dotes, which to a stranger would appear incredible, illustrating 
the power of this faculty, and the severity of those tests to 
which it was subjected. 



CHAPTER II. 



Comprising a period of three years from the time of his leaving college. 

Mr. Payson was graduated at Harvard University, at the 
commencement in 1803. Soon after leaving college, he was on 
recommendation, particularly of Professors Tappan and Pearson, 
engaged to take charge of the academy then recently establish- 
ed in Portland. He continued in this office for three years, at 
the close of which he was, by the terms of his contract, at lib- 
erty to resign it. Of this liberty his new views of duty, at the 
time, disposed him to avail himself. 

An employment, which requires the daily repetition of nearly 
the same routine of duties, cannot be very prolific in incident, 
or very favorable to the development of those qualities, which 
attract the public eye. Nor is it an employment in which real 
worth is likely to be appreciated, except by a very few ; though 
the subject of this Memoir is not thought to have had any spec- 
ial cause of complaint, as to the estimation in which his servi- 
ces were held. He acquired and sustained a good reputation as 
an instructor ; but from a man possessing his characteristics, 
something more would naturally be expected. He was certainly 
endued with a rare faculty for communicating knowledge, and 
with a power to awaken, and call into action, the mental ener- 
gies of either youth or manhood. In the existing methods of 
education, however, there was much to obstruct the exercise of 
this power. The instructor, who should do much more than 
follow the order and manner of the text-books then in use, 
would probably have been regarded as an empiric ; besides, the 

VOL. I. 4 



26 MEMOIROF 

habits of society were then opposed, more than they have been 
since, to every thing which bore the appearance t)f innovation. 
His native diffidence, also, would have operated as a powerful 
restraint against venturing on any bold experiments in a sphere 
of action and duty, in which, judging from the character and 
attainments of many who had filled it, little improvement was to 
be expected. 

At this period, he was but a youth ; and it is not to be sup- 
posed, that he engaged in the business of instruction, and pros- 
ecuted it Avith that all-absorbing interest and determination of 
purpose, which distinguished his ministerial career. It is, to 
say the least, extremely doubtful, whether he had felt the influ- 
ence on human exertion of that principle, which is indispensable 
to man's highest achievements — doing all to the glory of God. 
As it was, he is remembered by surviving pupils with gratitude, 
respect, and even veneration. He has left, as will be seen, suf- 
ficient evidence of his deep solicitude for their moral and relig- 
ious welfare, from the time at which he was comfortably assured 
of his own "acceptance in the Beloved." 

It would seem, from some allusions in his sermons, as well as 
from hints derived from other sources, that, during the early 
part of his residence in Portland, he indulged himself in such 
amusements as were fashionable, or were considered reputable, 
and that, too, with a gust as exquisite as their most hearty dev- 
otee — how frequently, or to what extent, the writer is ignorant. 
This practice, if it were more than occasional, would indicate a 
relish for social pleasures, in the usual sense of the expression, 
which did not long continue ; for after his seriousness became 
habitual, he was averse to going into company, even to a fault. 
He dreaded an invitation to a social party, though he had rea- 
son to expect nothing there directly offensive to religious feelings. 
But there were companions, whose society he sought, and whose 
intercourse was so regulated as to subserve mutual improve- 
ment. They were select literary friends, some of them his 
classmates, whose fellowship was in a high degree intimate and 
endearing. With these he passed many pleasant and profitable 
hours, and cemented a friendship, which continued till death, 
and which has been faithfully reciprocated by the surviving 
members of t!ie little band, and continues to exhibit itself in 
unfeigned respect for his precious memory. The exercises of 



EDWARDPAYSON. 27 

« 

these meetings were not subjected to any very rigid and formal 
regulations, such as would have cramped the energies of the 
mind, or restrained even its wilder sallies. Mutual confidence 
was the bond of union, which no severity of retort or piquancy 
of raillery could sunder. Each brought forward the results of 
his reading or invention, and exercised his powers at discussion 
or free conversation ; and, by this '• action of mind upon mind," 
the most brilliant flashes of wit were often struck from one so 
full charged, and so quick at combination, as Payson's, to the 
no small entertainment of his companions. Of these intellectual 
banquets, his contributions were the most coveted and exquisite 
portion. 

But no distance, employment, or friendships, could weaken 
his attachment to the paternal home, or diminish the strength 
of his filial love. Some extracts from his letters will now be 
given, which, while they exhibit the son and the brother in the 
most amiable light, will serve also to illustrate some of his in- 
tellectual qualities. They are addressed to his " ever dear and 
honored parents." 

^'Portland, May 20, 1804. 

''It is not the least among the distressing circumstances at- 
tending the late afilicting dispensation of Providence, that I am 
unable in person to share in your grief, and alleviate, by filial 
sympathy and afiection, the keenness of your sorrow. I would 
fain attempt to afford you some consolation ; but the only sour- 
ces, whence it can be derived, are already your own. I can 
only say for myself — it shall ever be my endeavor, that, so far 
as my exertions can avail, you shall not feel his loss ; and that 
we, who remain, will strive to fill, by our increased duty, rev- 
erence, and affection, the cruel void thus made in your happi- 
ness." 

''January 14, 1805. 

" I congratulate you both on the welcome news, which my 
sister gave me, of your amended health and spirits. Mine, I 
feel, flow with double rapidity, since I received her letter. I 
witness, in fancy, the happiness of home, and long to partici- 
pate and increase it ; but for the present must be content with 
rejoicing alone. I cannot possibly plead guilty to the charge of 
'not thinking of home, so often as home does of me.' On the 
contrary, I believe home has very little due on that score, if we 



»0 MEMOIROF 

consider the frequency and not the vakie of the thoughts. But^ 
my dear parents, if a few of those thoughts could be embodied 
on paper, and sent me, how much more good they would do, 
and how much more pleasure they would communicate, than if 
they were to remain in their native place ! 

" I am still without an assistant, and, as the number of stu- 
dents has been increased, my task is very laborious. However, 
I shall soon be supplied. Just now I was interrupted. It was 
my assistant. He is young and raw ; but so much the better. 
He will not render me small b^^^ comparison. 

" I had a pleasant vacation. All of my classmates, who are 
in the district, five in number, met at the house of one of them. 
The recollection of past scenes was, as Ossian says, 'pleasant 
and mournful to the soul.' There is, however, very little satis- 
faction in recalling past pleasures to mind ; that is, what is gen- 
erally called pleasure." 

" September 8, 1805. 

*' The distress I felt at parting with you was soon banished 
by the garrulity of my companion, whose chattering tongue for 
once afforded me pleasure, and, besides, freed me from the ne- 
cessity of talking, for which I felt not very well qualified. 
I once thought it was impossible for my filial afl^ection to 
be increased ; but the kindness which first gave birth to 
it increases every visit I make, and that must increase 
it. Were others blessed with friends like mine, how much 
greater would be the sum of virtue and happiness on earth, 
than we have reason to fear it is at present. Why cannot 
other parents learn your art of mixing the friend with the pa- 
rent? of joining friendship to filial affection, and of conciliating 
love, without losing respect? — an art of more importance to so- 
ciety and more difficult to learn, — at least, if we may judge by 
the rareness with which it is found, — than any other ; and an 
art, which you, my dear parents, certainly have in perfection. 

" We had a tolerably pleasant journey, and were received 

with kindness by Mrs. , and with politeness, at least, by 

the rest of the family. After the others were retired. Col. 

kept me up till past eleven, explaining, as well as I could, the 
difference between the various sects of religion, especially be- 
tween Arminians and Calvinists. ^ ^ ^ 

" We had a long passage, but met with no accident, except 



EDWARD PAYSON. 29 

that I carried away my hat — to use a sea-phrase — that is, the 
wind carried it away, and, there being no one on board that 
would fit me, I was two days on the water exposed to a burn- 
ing sun, without shelter ; in consequence, my face was scorched 
pretty severely." 

" September 20, 1805. 

" I sadly suspect that this plan of numbering my epistles will 
prove your deficiency, and my attention, in a manner very hon- 
orable to myself, and not very much so to my good friends at 
home. This is my fourth, and not one have I received, nor do I 
expect one this long time. However, I say not this by way of 
complaint. Your kindness, when I was at home, proved your 
affection beyond a doubt ; and if I should not receive one letter 
this year, I should have no right to complain. Yet, though not 
of right, I may of favor entreat for a few occasional tokens of 
remembrance. I have as yet scarcely recovered from the infla- 
tion and pride your goodness occasioned. The attention I 
received led me to suppose myself a person of no small conse- 
quence ; however, a month's dieting on cold civility and formal 
politeness will, I hope, reduce me to my former size. In the 
mean time, I am convinced that my situation here is not so 
much worse than any other as I imagined." 

The following letter describes a scene in a stage-coach. 
Those who have witnessed the writer's unequalled command of 
language, and power to accumulate facts and imagery to give it 
effect, will most readily conceive of the overwhelming torrent of 
satire, which he must have poured forth on the occasion de- 
scribed. Travellers have often brought themselves into a highly 
mortifying dilemma by allowing free license to their tongues 
among strangers. It was happy for the hero in this adventure, 
that he expended his forces upon a legitimate subject of raillery. 

'' Portland, Oct. 8, 1805. 
" My dearest father : — In hopes of rescuing you one mo- 
ment from the crowd of cares and occupations which surround 
you, I will give you an anecdote of my journey ; and if you 
condescend to smile over it, why, so much the better. When 
seated in a company of strange phizzes, I immediately set my- 
self to decipher them, and assign a character and occupation to 
the owner of each. But in the stage which conveyed us to 



30 MEMOIR OF 

B*****5 there was one which completely puzzled me. I could 
think of no employment that would fit it, except that of a 
'^^*^*** representative, unless it was that of a ****'^**^*^^ 
whose pride, being confined in B. by the pressure of wealth and 
talents, had now room to expand itself. A certain kind of con- 
sequential gravity and pompous solemnity, together with his 
dress, might perhaps have impressed us with respect, had not a 
pair of rough, callous hands, with crooked, dirty nails, lessened 
their eflTect. During a pause in the conversation, he presented 
me with a paper, which, on examination, 1 found to be one of 
those quack advertisements, which Mr. **=^* has honored with 
his signature. Not suspecting, in the least, that the good gentle- 
man had any concern in the business, and feeling a fine flow of 
words at hand, I began to entertain my fellow travellers with its 
numerous beauties of expression, spelling, and grammar. Find- 
ing them very attentive, and encouraged by their applause, I 
next proceeded to utter a most violent philippic against quacks 
of all denominations, especially those who go about poisoning 
the ignorant with patent medicines. I could not help observing, 
however, that my eloquence, while it had a powerful effect on 
the muscles of the rest of my companions, seemed to be thrown 
away on this gentleman aforesaid. But concluding that his 
gravity proceeded from a wish to keep up his dignity, I resolved 
to conquer it ; and commenced a fresh attack, in which, address- 
ing myself entirely to him, I poured forth all the ridicule and 
abuse which my own imagination could suggest, or memory 
could supply. But all in vain. The more animated and witty 
I was, the more doleful he looked, till, having talked myself out 
of breath, and finding the longitude of his face increase every 
moment, I desisted, very much mortified that my efforts were 
so unsuccessful. But, in the midst of my chagrin, the coach 
stopped, the gentleman alighted, and was welcomed by a little 
squab wife into a shop decorated with the letters, •' Medical 
Cordial Store." I afterwards learnt he is the greatest quack- 
medicine seller in B. Excuse me, my dear father, for this long, 
dull story. I thought it would be shorter. I feel rather out of 
tune for embellishing to-day. 

" We have lately been in a hubbub here about a theatre. 
After a great deal of dispute, the town voted, to the astonish- 
ment of all, that they would not, if they could help it, suffer the 



E D W A R D P A Y S O N . 31 

establishment of a theatre. One man said, and said publicly, 
that he considered it as much a duty to carry his children to a 
play-house, as he did to carry them to meeting, and that they 
got more good by it. Among the arguments in favor, it was 
asserted, that, though bad plays were sometimes acted, bad ser- 
mons were likewise preached, and that the pulpit ought to be 
pulled down as much as the theatre. — Adieu, my dear father, 
and believe me your most affectionate son, 

Edward Payson." 

''October 29, 1S05. 
*' I must, my dear mother, give you some account of my 
comforts. In the first place, I have a very handsome chamber, 
which commands a delightful view of the harbor, and the town, 
with the adjacent country. This chamber is sacred ; for even 
the master of the house does not enter it without express invita- 
tion. At sunrise, a servant comes and lights up a fire, which 
soon induces me to rise, and I have nothing to do, but sit down 
to study. When I come from school at night, I find a fire built, 
jack and slippers ready, a lamp as soon as it is dark, and fuel 
sufficient for the evening. An agreement with a neighboring 
bookseller furnishes me with books in plenty and variety. The 
objection to our meals is, they are too good, and consist of too 
great a variety. And what gives a zest to all, without which it 
Avould be insipid, is, that I can look round me, and view all 
these comforts as the effects of infinite, unmerited goodness ; of 
goodness, the operations of which I can trace through all m3r 
past life ; of goodness, which I humbly hope and trust will con- 
tinue to bless me, through all my future existence." 

November 18, 1805. 
'' My dear mother, — I last night witnessed a scene, to which 
I had before been a stranger ; it was a death-bed scene. A 
young gentleman of my acquaintance, and nearly of my own 
age, had been confined thirty-two days, and I was requested to 
watch with him ; and a more exquisitely distressing task I hope 
never to undertake. When I went, there was little, if any, 
hope of his life. His mother — whose favorite he deservedly 
Avas — though she is, I believe, a sincere Christian, seemed una- 
ble to support the idea of a separation. Fatigue and loss of 



32 M E M I R O F 

sleep made her lightheaded ; and, at times, she raved almost as 
badly as the patient. His sister, a gay, thoughtless girl, was in 
a paroxysm of loud and turbulent grief; while a young lady, 
whom he was expecting to marry, heightened the distress by 
marks of anguish too strong to be concealed, and which seemed 
to flow from tenderness equal to any thing I have met vvdth in 
romance. As I had seen nothing of the kind before, its effects 
on my feelings were irresistible. The perpetual groans and 
ravings of the dying — whose head I was for hours obliged to 
support with one hand, while I wiped off the sweat of death 
with the other; the inarticulate expressions of anguish, mingled 
with prayers, of the mother ; the loud and bitter lamentations 
of the sister ; the stifled agonies of the young lady, and the 
cries of the younger branches of the family, (the father was 
asleep!) formed a combination of sounds which I could scarcely 
support. Add to this the frightful contortions and apparent 
agonies of the poor suflerer, with all the symptoms of approach- 
ing death. About two o'clock, he died. I then had the no less 
diflicult and painful task of endeavoring to quiet the family. 
The mother, when convinced he was certainly dead, became 
composed, and, with much persuasion and some force, was pre- 
vailed upon to take her bed, as were the rest of the family, ex- 
cept the young lady. 

" I had then to go half a mile for a person to assist in laying 
out the corpse, in as bitter a storm as ever blew ; and, after this 
was done, watched with it the remainder of the night. You 
will not wonder if I feel, to-day, exhausted in body and mind. 
Surely there is no torture like seeing distress without the ability 
of removing it. All day have I heard the dying groans sound- 
ing in my ears. I could not have believed it possible, that any 
thing could take such astonishing hold of the mind ; and, unless 
you can remember the first death you ever witnessed, you can 
never conceive how it affected me. But, distressing as it was, 
I would not for any thing have been absent. I hope it will be 
of service to me. It is better to go to the house of mourning 
than to the house of mirth. Grief has a strong tendency to 
soften the heart, and dispose it to gratitude and other affections. 
An instance of this I saw in this family. They are so grateful 
to me for — I don't know what — that they seem unable to thank 
me enough." 



edward payson. 33 

"January 25, 1806. 

"I had a letter from ****** last evening. He is in the 
West Indies, and has just recovered from a fever. His letter is 
more friendly than any I have received, but it is not so serious 
as I wish. You prophesied, when I was at home, that our 
friendship would not last long; but since it has survived a visit 
to the Cataract of Niagara, to Saratoga Springs, and a voyage 
to the West Indies, it is something of a proof that many waters 
cannot quench, neither floods drown it. 

" A classmate, who has commenced preaching, called last 
week to see me. Speaking of an old tutor of ours, a very pious 
man, who has lately lost a much loved wife, he mentioned a 
letter written by him while the bell was tolling for her funeral, 
in which he says, ' The bell is now tolling for my wife's 
funeral; yet I am happy, happy beyond expression.' This 
my classmate considered as a sure proof of a very weak or very 
insensible mind. It is needless to add, that he is an Arminian. 
I daily see more occasion to be convinced, that the Calvinistic 
scheme is, must be right, but I cannot wonder so few embrace 
it. So long as the reasonings of the head continue to be influ- 
enced by the feelings of the heart, the majority will reject it." 

" February 9, 1806. 
'' You need be under no apprehension, my dear mother, that 
my present mode of living will render the manner of living in 
the most rustic parish disagreeable. On the contrary, I shall be 
glad of the exchange, as it respects diet ; for I find it no easy 
matter to sit down to a table profusely spread with dainties, and 
eat no more than nature requires and temperance allows. And 
I should take infinitely more satisfaction in the conversation of 
a plain, unlettered Christian, than in the unmeaning tattle of 
the drawing room, or the flippant vivacity of professed wits. 
What gives me most uneasiness, and what I fear will always 
be a thorn in my path, is, too great a thirst for applause. When 
I sit down to write, I perpetually catch myself considering, not 
what will be most useful, but what will be most likely to gain 
praise from an audience. If I should be unpopular, it would, I 
fear, give me more uneasiness than it ought ; and if — though I 
think there is little reason to fear it — I should in any degree be 
acceptable, what a terrible blaze it would make in my bosom ! 

VOL. I. 5 



34 MEMOIROF 

What a temptation this disposition will be to suppress, or 
lightly touch upon, those doctrines which are most important, 
because they are disagreeable to most persons ! I should at 
once give up in despair, had I nothing but my own philosophy 
to depend on; but I hope and trust I shall be enabled to 
conquer it. 

"If you knew the many things which rendered it unlikely 
that I should continue here half so long as I have, you would 
join with me in thinking an overruling Providence very visible 
in the whole affair. With respect to continuing longer, I do not 
mean to form a single plan on the subject. If I know any 
thing of my own heart, I can appeal to God as a witness of my 
earnest desire to be in the situation where he sees best to place 
me, without any regard to its being agreeable or disagreeable ; 
and he can, and, I doubt not, will, order matters so as to shorten 
or prolong my stay here as he pleases."' 

"January 15, 1806. 

"If you, my dear Mother, can pick out the meaning in the 
last page, I shall be glad ; for in truth it is but poorly expressed. 
You must havfe observed, that my letters are very obscure ; that 
the transitions from one subject to another are rapid and capri- 
cious. The reason of this confusion is, — when I sit down to 
write, forty ideas jump at once, all equally eager to get out, 
and jostle and incommode each other at such a rate, that not 
the most proper, , but the strongest, escapes first. My mind 
would fain pour itself all out, at once, on the paper ; but, the 
pen being rather too small a passage, ***-*** =^ * * ^, 
* * :* ^ * * * ^ :^ :^ * -^. go much by way of apology, by 
which, as is usually the case with apologies, I have only made 
bad worse.'* 

"April 2, 1806. 

"My dear Mother, — I have just received your last paquet, 
and am so rejoiced I can hardly sit still enough to write. 
They were not half long enough to satiate me, and I am 
more hungry than before. Yesterday, in order to appease my 
hunger, I read over all the letters I have received this year 
past, to my great satisfaction. You must not expect method 
nor legible writing. These qualifications are necessary in a 
billet of compliments; but in a letter to friends, I despise 



EDWARDPAYSON. 35 

them. However, if my good friends are fond of them, and pre- 
fer them to the rapid effusions of affection that will hardly 
wait the pen's motion, I will soon write a letter that shall be as 
cold and as splendid as an ice-palace. You may usually ob- 
serve my hand-writing is much better at the beginning than 
at the end of my letters ; and this happens because I gather 
warmth as I write. A letter to a friend, written with exact care, 
is like — ' Madam, I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you in 
very good health,' — addressed to a mother, on meeting her after 
a year's absence. 

'^ I did not recollect, that I made use of a billet to enclose my 
letters. However, I suppose it did just as well. Pray give my 
love to PhilUps, (with the rest of the dear clan,) and tell him, 
that^ instead of being a sign of poverty, it is the surest way to 
be rich, to save even the cover of a letter ; besides, I have 
papa's authority for using billets in that way." 

These extracts show how he appreciated the relations of son 
and brother, and how just he was to all the claims which these 
relations involve. His filial affection is among the loveliest 
traits in his character, and it never suffered any abatement, so 
long as he had a parent to love. He continued to appropriate, 
unasked, and of choice, the excess of his earnings above his 
expenditures, to the use of his parents, till the whole amount 
expended for his education had been reimbursed. By word and 
deed, in the thousand ways which affection suggests, he sought 
their comfort and happiness. 

It was not till the third year of his residence in Portland, 
that he made his first appearance before a popular assembly. 
On the 4th of July, 1806, at the request of the municipal 
authorities of the town, he pronounced the anniversary oration, 
a performance which secured him unbounded applause, and 
which he was solicited, with great earnestness, to allow to be 
published ; but no persuasion could induce him to give a copy. 
This production is eminently rich in imagery, and generally 
in sound political views. He shared, with many wise and good 
men, serious apprehensions for the result of the experiment 
making in our own country, w^hether a free government can be 
perpetuated. Those who recollect the circumstances of our 
country at that time, well know that there were many reasons 



36 MEMOIROf 

for doubt ; and that, in the view of all, an important crisis was 
approaching, which will account for, if not justify the coloring 
in the following picture : — 

*' The vessel of our republic, driven by the gales of faction, 
and hurried still faster by the secret current of luxury and vice, 
is following the same course, and fast approaching the same 
rocks, which have proved fatal to so many before us. Already 
may we hear the roaring of the surge ; already do we begin to 
circle round the vortex which is soon to ingulf us. Yet we 
see no danger. In vain does experience offer us the wisdom 
of past ages for our direction : in vain does the genius of histo- 
ry spread her chart, and point out the ruin towards which v/e 
are advancing : in vain do the ghosts of departed governments, 
lingering round the rocks on which they perished, warn us 
of our approaching fate, and eagerly strive to terrify us from 
our course. It seems to be an immutable law of our nature, 
that nations, as well as individuals, shall learn wisdom by uo 
experience but their own. That blind, that accursed infatua- 
tion, which ever appears to govern mankind when their most 
important interests are concerned, leads us, in defiance of 
reason, experience, and common sense, to flatter ourselves, 
that the same causes which have proved fatal to all other 
governments, will lose their pernicious tendency when exerted 
on our own." 

Alluding to the reigning policy of our government in relation 
to commerce, and to a navy as a means of national defence, 
and classing among its effects the blockade of our ports, the 
detention of our vessels, and the plundering of our property by 
every petty freebooter, he thus states the argument by which it 
had been defended : — 

" As some consolation under these accumulated evils, we have 
lately been told, that the United States are a land animal — an 
elephant, who is resistless on land, but has nothing to do with 
the dominion or navigation of the sea. Grant that they are so: 
yet if this elephant can neither cool his burning heat, nor quench 
his thirst, without losing his proboscis by the jaws of the shark 
or the tusks of the alligator, what does it avail him, that he is 
allowed to graze his native plains in safety 7" 



EDWARDPAYSON. 37 

Some of his paragraphs are as significant as they are glow- 
ing:— 

" That virtue, both in those who command and those who 
obey, is absolutely essential to the existence of republics, is a 
maxim, and a most important one, in political science. Whether 
we retain a sufiicient share of this virtue to promise ourselves a 
long duration, you, my friends, must decide. But, should the 
period ever arrive, when luxury and intemperance shall corrupt 
our towns, while ignorance and vice pervade the country ; when 
the press shall become the common sewer of falsehood and 
slander ; when talents and integrity shall be no recommenda- 
tion, and open dereliction of all principle no obstacle to prefer- 
ment ; when we shall intrust our liberties to men with whom 
we should not dare to trust our property ; when the chief seats 
of honor and responsibility in our government shall be filled 
by characters of whom the most malicious ingenuity can invent 
nothing worse than the truth ; when we shall see the members 
of our national councils, in defiance of the laws of God and 
their country, throwing away their lives in defence of reputa- 
tions, which, if they ever existed, had long been lost ; when the 
slanderers of Washington and the blasphemers of our God 
shall be thought useful laborers in our political vineyard ; when, 
in fine, we shall see our legislators sacrificing their senses, their 
reason, their oaths, and their consciences at the altar of party : 
then we may say, that virtue has departed, and that the end 
of our liberty draweth nigh." 

After drawing a most striking and vivid contrast between 
the circumstances and prospects of the country as they existed 
at the time, and as they had been at a former period, he pro- 
ceeds : — 

"The imperfect sketch of our situation, which has just been 
given, is not drawn for the sake of mdulging in idle complaints 
or querulous declamation ; and still less is it intended to lead to 
a conclusion, that our case is desperate. But it is intended, if 
there be yet remaining one spark of that spirit, one drop of that 
blood, which animated and warmed the breasts of our fathers, 
to rouse it to vigorous and energetic exertions. It is to the want 



38 MEMOIR OF 

of such exertions, that we must ascribe the rapid and alarming 
spread of disorganizing and demoralizing principles among us ; 
and we can, in fact, blame none but ourselves for the evils we 
suffer. Had we paid half that attention to the interests of our 
country and the preservation of liberty, that we have to the 
calls of indulgence, of pleasure, of avarice, never should we 
have seen the sun of American glory thus shorn of his beams, 
and apparently about to set forever. It is true, indeed, that, 
when aroused by some particularly interesting object, we have 
started from our slumbers, and seen the iiendlike form of Fac- 
tion sink beneath our efforts. But no sooner was the object of 
our exertions accomplished, than we returned to our couches, and 
while we were exulting in our strength, and rejoicing in our 
victory, suffered our indefatigable foe to regain all she had lost 
It is not sudden and transient efforts, however vigorous and 
well-directed, that can preserve any state from destruction. 
There is, in all popular governments, a national tendency to 
degenerate, as there is in matter to fall ; and nothing can coun- 
teract this tendency, and the continual endeavor of unprhicipled 
men to increase it, but the most energetic and persevering exer- 
tions. On no easier terms can the blessings of freedom be 
enjoyed ; and if we think this price too great, it evinces that we 
are neither worthy nor capable of enjoying them. 

" This inexcusable neglect, so fatal to our liberties, and so 
disgraceful to ourselves, is occasioned, in some measure, by the 
indulgence of hopes not less dgingerous than they are ground- 
less and delusive. We are told, that the torrent of licentious- 
ness, which is rushing in upon us, is not a just cause for alarm ; 
that it will cease of itself, when it has run its career ; and that 
the people, having learned wisdom by experience, will know 
how to prize the blessings of order, and return with alacrity to 
their former correct habits. True, it will cease Avhen it has run 
its career: and so will the conflagration that destroys your 
dwelling ; but will you, therefore, use no endeavors to extin- 
guish it ? Beware of indulging any hopes, but those which are 
founded on exertions. The torrent which approaches us is the 
overwhelming deluge of Vesuvius or ^Etna, which calcines or 
consumes what it cannot remove, leaves nothing behind it but 
a black sterility, and renders ages insufficient to repair the hav- 
oc of a day. 

.\^ ^ ^. 4^b ^ ^ ^ 

•^ TV" •Jv •3P *Iv TV" ^ 



EDWARDPAYSON. 39 

I 

'^ Away then, with those idle hopes and frivolous excuses, 
which defraud us of the only moments in which our safety can 
be secured. Away with that indolence, so unworthy, so incon- 
sistent with the character of freemen. This is the very crisis 
of our fate. We stand on the extremest verge of safety ; a 
single step may plunge us headlong, never to rise. The im- 
mense wheel of revolution may be put in motion by a fly, 
though it would require more than mortal power to arrest its 
progress. Those who attempt to check its career must fall the 
first victims to its ponderous weight ; while those only who urge 
it forward, and rejoice in the horrid devastation it occasions, 
can be safe. But let us not, therefore, give way to despair. The 
same maxim, that bids us never presume, teaches us likewise 
never to despair. By neglecting the first of these precepts, we 
have begun our ruin ; let us not complete it by neglecting the 
last. Let us endeavor to open those eyes whose sight is not to- 
tally extinguished by the virulence of the disease. The bright 
rays of truth and reason, condensed and reflected from a 
poUshed mind, may penetrate even the shades and mists of * * 
* * prejudice. Remember, that, when good is to be promoted, 
or evil opposed, it is the duty of every individual to conduct as 
if the whole success of the enterprise depended on himself. 
Remember, too, that there is no individual so insignificant, that 
he cannot afibrd some assistance in the struggle for liberty and 
order. 

" But let us be careful, my friends, to engage in this struggle, 
in a manner, and with arms, worthy of the cause we profess to 
support. Why should we disgrace that and ourselves, by con- 
tending for the most important interests of our country in 
language fit only for a tenant of Bilingsgate, disputing about 
the property of a shrimp or an oyster ? Why should we quit 
the high groimd of reason and argument, on which we stand, to 
wrestle with our antagonists in the kennel of scurrility and 
abuse 1 ^ * ^ Why should we exchange weapons, with which 
we are certain of victory, for those which our adversaries can 
wield with equal, and perhaps superior dexterity ? 

^ 'U' -^ ^ •^ ^ •^ 

"A" -Tt" •Tt' "/^ ^ •IV' ^ 

"It ought never to be forgotten, that, except in some few in- 
stances, where they are inseparable even in idea, it is not men, 
but principles, we are to attack. Experience has at length, in 



40 MEMOIROF 

some measure, taught us, what we ought long since to have 
learned from reason, that, though ridicule can irritate, it cannot 
convince. On the contrary, it rouses to opposition some of the 
strongest passions in the human breast ; and he must be some- 
thing different from man, who can be scourged out of any 
opinion by the lash of personal satire. ^ * * 

'' But all our exertions, however animated by zeal, nerved by 
energy, and guided by prudence, will be insufficient to restore 
us to the height from which we have fallen, unless we restore 
those moral and religious principles, which were formerly our 
glory, our ornament, and defence. Would you know, my 
friends, the real source of the calamities we suffer, and the 
dangers we fear 7 It is here ; we have forsaken the God of our 
fathers, and therefore all this evil has come upon us. We once 
gloried in styling ourselves his American Israel ; and a similari- 
ty of character and situation gives us a claim to the title. 
Like them, we have often been delivered by his uplifted 
hand and his outstretched arm; like them we have experienced 
his munificence in temporal and spiritual blessings; and, like 
them, we have repaid his goodness with ingratitude and rebel- 
lion. Like them, we have bowed down to the idols of luxury, 
of ambition, of pleasure and avarice ; and as we have copied 
their idolatry, so, unless Heaven, in undeserved mercy, prevent, 
we shall soon resemble them in their destruction. It is an im- 
mutable truth, that sin is the ruin of any people ; and woe to 
that nation who will not believe it without making the experi- 
ment. This experiment, fatal as it must prove, we seem 
resolved to make. Among us God's laws are disobeyed, his 
institutions are despised, his Sabbaths are profaned, and his 
name is blasphemed. And shall he not visit for these things 1 
Will he not be avenged on such a nation as this 7 ^ ^ * * =^ 

''Will any reply, with a sneer, that these observations have 
been often repeated, and that they have now become trite and 
old 7 They are so ; * =* * * and though this were the ten 
thousandth repetition, still, if we have not yet reduced them to 
practice, it is necessary to hear them again and again. Re- 
member, that it is in vain to boast of our patriotism, and make 
high pretensions to love for our country, while, by our private 
vices, we are adding to the national debt of iniquity under 
which she groans, and which must soon plunge her in the gulf 



EDWARDPAYSON. 41 

of irretrievable ruin. Hear, and remember — that if, in defiance 
of reason, gratitude, and religion, we still madly persist to follow 
that path in which we have already made such rapid advances, 
and to imitate the vices of those nations who have gone before 
us, as certain as there is a God in heaven, so certainly we shall 
share their fate. 

'' If, then, you would display true love for your country, and 
lengthen out the span of her existence, endeavor by precept, 
but especially by example, to inculcate the principles of order, 
morality, and religion. Exert your influence to check the 
progress of luxury, that first, second, and third cause of the 
ruin of republics ; that vampyre, which soothes us into a fatal 
slumber, while it sucks the life-blood from our veins. Above 
all, be attentive to the morals of the rising generation, and do 
not, by neglect and indulgence, nourish the native seeds of vice 
and faction in their hearts. Let not these counsels be despised, 
because they are the words of youth and inexperience. When 
your habitation is in flames, a child may give the alarm, as 
well as a philosopher." 

The extracts from this oration have been the more copious, 
as it is the only considerable production of Dr. Payson, that 
survives him, whose object was not professedly religious ; and 
because this performance is thought to have had influence in 
fixing his ultimate destination. This was the commencement 
of his career, as a public speaker, and probably the only occa- 
sion on which he addressed a popular assembly, till he stood 
forth as the ambassador of Christ. In selecting the passages to 
be preserved, regard was had not so much to originality nor to 
brilliancy of imagery, as to the permanent value of the senti- 
ments, and their suitableness to the design of this Avork. 



CHAPTEE III. 



His religious history during the period embraced in the preceding chapter. 

"When did Dr. Payson become religious?" — and "What 
was the character of his religious experience at the time he em- 
braced the hope of the gospel?"— are questions which have been 
frequently proposed, but never satisfactorily answered. With 
respect to them he invariably maintained a reserve, which, to 
good people, who were over-curious to know, appeared wholly 
unaccountable. If he ever fully communicated those inward 
feelings and exercises, which issued in a confirmed hope, it must 
have been to his parents and sister, who are no longer inhabi- 
tants of earth. No solicitations by others could draw from him 
a particular history of that process, through which he Avas carri- 
ed, before he could appropriate the comforting language, "Being 
justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord 
Jesus Christ." The compiler of these pages studied his relig- 
ious history in an inverted order, and being first made acquain- 
ted with that part of his experience which belonged to a 
subsequent period of his life, was ready to account for his re- 
serve on the supposition, that the exercises attending his con- 
version were of an extraordinary kind ; and, if adopted as a 
standard of religious experience — which, considering the char- 
acter and station of their subject, and that sort of oracular au- 
thority which was connected in many minds with whatever he 
sanctioned, they could hardly fail to be, to some extent — would 
occasion much discomfort to real believers, and be far from rec- 
ommending religion to such as have never yielded themselves to 
its influence. 



MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 43 

A difFerent supposition, however, is more credible, and has 
something hke evidence to support it. It has already been seen, 
that his mother, who doubtless watched, and "pondered in her 
heart," every indication of the state of his feelings on this sub- 
ject, was not without a partial belief, that he was converted in 
childhood. His room-mate, since a minister of the gospel, thinks 
that "he experienced religion before entering college, but, owing 
to his peculiar situation while there, became a backslider." An- 
other classmate, one of the literary associates mentioned in the 
preceding chapter, whose speculative views of religion are sup- 
posed to differ from those of his departed friend, but who has 
the power to discern, and a heart to appreciate worth, wherever 
found, has thus expressed himself in relation to these questions : 
" His theological opinions, during his early consideration of 
subjects of that nature, were essentially Calvinistic ; but his 
views of the operative power of religious faith upon the heart 
and life, were materially altered, previous to entering upon the 
great work which occupied the remainder of his days. The 
important change took place gradually, not from any sudden or 
overpowering impressions." 

With such an origin correspond the earlier fruits and opera- 
tions of his religion, so far as they can be gathered from writ- 
ings which he has left behind him. His religion was of a 
comparatively gentle, unobtrusive, amiable, yet progressive, 
character, less marked by the extremes of agonizing and tri- 
umphant feelings, than it was at a subsequent period — a differ- 
ence, for which the reader will, in the sequel, be at no loss to 
account. From the early part of 1804, religion seems to have 
been his all-engrossing concern ; his attention was then arrested 
and fixed, so as never afterwards to be diverted, for any length 
of time, from the subject. Whether he were in an unconverted 
or backslidden state, he was then roused, as from sleep, to take 
a solemn view of his relations as an accountable and immortal 
being. The occasion of this new or revived concern for his 
soul, was the death of a beloved brother. A letter to his pa- 
rents, in answer to one which announced the sorrowful tidings, 
is the earliest prodiLiction of his pen, which has escaped obliv- 
ion, and, on this account alone, will be read with interest. But 
it has a higher value, as it enables us to date the commence- 
ment of his attention to his spiritual interests as far back 



44 M E M O I R O F 

as May 20, 1804,* the time when his letter was dated, 
and it more than intimates that the subject with him was not 
new. 

" My dear mother's fears respecting my attention to religious 
concerns were, alas ! but too well founded. Infatuated by the 
pleasures and amusements which this place affords, and which 
took the more powerful hold on my senses from being adorned 
with a refinement to which I had before been a stranger, I 
gradually grew cold and indifferent to religion ; and, though I 
still made attempts to reform, they were too transient to be ef- 
fectual. 

^' From this careless frame, nothing but a shock like that I 
have received could have roused me ; and though my deceitful 
heart will, I fear, draw me back again into the snare, as soon 
as the first impression is worn off, yet I hope, by the assistance 
of divine grace, that this dispensation will prove of eternal 
benefit. This is my most earnest prayer, and I know it will be 
yours. 

'' In reflecting on the ends of divine Providence in this event, 
I am greatly distressed. To you, my dear parents, it could not 
be necessary. My sister, as you sometime since informed me, 
has turned her attention to religion ; the other children are too 
young to receive benefit from it. It remains, then, that I am 
the Achan, who has drawn this punishment, and occasioned 
this distress to my friends. My careless, obdurate heart rendered 
it necessary to punish and humble it : and O that the punish- 
ment had fallen where it was due ! But I can pursue the sub- 
ject no further." 

* This date is given, as it appears in Dr. Payson's hand-writing. A corres- 
pondent, however, places it a year later. If the date of the brother's death 
has been preserved on the Family Record, which is altogether probable, to 
that date this change in his feelings should be referred. It is possible some- 
thing may have faded from the last of the figures denoting the year. 

It has been stated, on credible authority, that Dr. Payson was so much af- 
fected by this bereavement, that he confined himself to his chamber for three 
days ; and that, previously to this period, he had purposed to devote himself 
to the profession of the law. If so, the affliction was no less a mercy to the 
church than to himself 

" God is his own Interpreter." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 45 

Here is the subdued tone of the penitent, "come to himself, and 
returning to his Father." Of his progress in piety for the next 
six months, nothing is known except what may be inferred from 
a letter dated Dec. 12th of the same year. An extract will show 
that he was not inattentive to what passed in his own heart, 
nor without experience in the Christian conflict. 

" I have nothing but complaints of myself to make, nothing 
but the same old story of erring and repenting, but never reform- 
ing. I fear I am in a sad way. I attend public worship and 
think of every subject but the proper one ; or if, by strong ex- 
ertions, I fix my attention for a few minutes, I feel an irresisti- 
ble propensity to criticise the preacher, instead of attending to 
the instructions; and, notwithstanding a full conviction that 
this conduct is wrong, I persist in it still. Hence it happens, 
that the Sabbath, which is so admirably calculated to keep 
alive a sense of religion, becomes a stumbling-block. The 
thought of my sinful neglect and inattention so shames and 
distresses me, that I am miable to approach the throne of grace, 
through shame. As this, I know, is the fruit of a self-righteous 
spirit, I strive against it; and, after two or three days, perhaps, 
am enabled to trust in Christ for the pardon of that and other 
sins. But, another Sabbath, the same round is repeated. Thus 
I go on, sinning and humbling myself after long seeking for a 
proper sense of my sin, then confessing it with contrition and 
remorse ; and, the next moment, even while the joy of obtained 
pardon and gratitude for divine favor is thrilling in my heart, 
plunging, on the most trivial temptation, into the same error, 
whose bitter consequences I had so lately felt. Shame and re- 
morse for the ungrateful returns I have made for the blessings 
bestowed, prevent secret prayer, frequently for two or three 
days together, mitil I can no longer support it ; and though I 
have so often experienced forgiving love, I am too proud to ask 
for it." 

A few weeks afterwards, he writes thus : — '• I feel convinced 
by experience, that if I relax my exertions for ever so short a 
time, it will require additional exertions to repair it, and perhaps 
occasion a week's gloom and despondency ; yet the least temp- 
tation leads me to do what I feel conscious at the time, I shall 



46 MEMOIROF 

severely smart for. In the impracticable attempt to reconcile 
God and the world, I spend my time very unhappily, neither 
enjoying the comforts of this world nor of religion. But 1 have 
at last determined to renounce the false pleasures for which I 
pay so dear, and this I should have done long ago, but for the 
advice and example of some whose judgment I respected." 

'' I have lately been severely tried with doubts and difficul- 
ties respecting many parts of Scripture. Reading the other 
day, J met with this passage, ' for his great name's sake.' It 
was immediately suggested to my mind, that, as the Deity be- 
stowed all his favors on us ' for his great name's sake,' we were 
under no obligations to feel grateful for them. And though my 
heart assented to the propriety of gratitude, my head would not. 
In hearing my scholars recite the Greek Testament, I am dis- 
turbed by numberless seeming inconsistencies and doubts, which, 
though they do not shake my belief, render me for a time 
extremely miserable. I find no relief in these trials from the 
treatises which have been written in proof of the truth of rev- 
elation. It is from a different source that assistance is received." 

" April 20, 1805. 
" My dearest mother: — I have just been perusing something 
excessively interesting to my feelings. It is a short extract from 
your journal in my sister's letter. Surely it is my OAvn fault, 
that I do not resemble Samuel in more instances than one. 
What a disgrace to me, that, with such rare and inestimable ad- 
vantages, I have made no greater progress ! However, thanks 
to the fervent, effectual prayers of my righteous parents, and the 
tender mercies of my God upon me, I have reason to hope, that 
the pious wishes, breathed over my infant head, are in some 
measure fulfilled ; nor would I exchange the benefits which I 
have derived from my parents for the inheritance of any mon- 
arch * in the universe. 

*The admirers of Cowper — between whom and the subject of this 
Memoir there are several strong points of resemblance — will be reminded, at 
once, of those beautiful hnes : 

My boast is not that I deduce my birth 
'» From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; 

But higher fai- my proud pretensions rise ; 
The son of parents passed into the skies." 



EDWARD PAYSON. ^ 47 

" I feel inclined to hope that I am progressing, though by slow 
and imperceptible degrees, in the knowledge of divine things. 
On comparing my former and present views, I find that the 
latter are much less confused and perplexed ; that I have clearer 
conceptions of my utter inability to take a single step in religion 
without divine assistance, of the consequent necessity of a 
Saviour, and of the way of salvation by him. Yet I cannot 
find that my conduct, my heart or disposition is made better. 
On the contrary, I fear they are worse than ever." 

''June 12, 1805. 
" I find I have been trying to establish a righteousness 



of my own, though till lately I thought myself free from any 
such design. Hence arose all that unwillingness to perform the 
public and private exercises of devotion, which I felt after any 
neglect of duty. I wanted, forsooth, to be encouraged to hope 
for an answer of peace, by some merits of my oAvn, and so felt 
unwilling to approach the throne of grace, Avhen I had been 
guilty of any thing which lessened my stock of goodness. lu 
short, it was the same kind of reluctance which I should feel to 
approach a fellow being whom I had injured. And this, which 
I now see arose from pride, I fondly thought was the effect of 
great humility. Finding myself so deceived here, and in num- 
berless other instances, I am utterly at a loss what to do. If I 
attempt to perform any duty, I am afraid it is only an attempt 
to build up a fabric of my own ; and if I neglect it, the case is 
still worse. 

'i^ '^ It 'jv ^f ^ ^ 

" Since the period of my leaving home for Cambridge, it has 
appeared the most discouraging circumstance attending the 
spread of religion, that many who undertake to preach it are so 
shamefully negligent. Of this, my dear mother, you can form 
no just idea, unless you horve heard them. While their hearers 
are wishing and longing for spiritual food, they are obliged to 
rest content with cold, dry lectures on morality, enforced by any 
motives rather than evangelical. These ministers content them- 
selves, generally, with pruning off some of the most prominent 
excrescences of vice ; they leave the root untouched, and cut off 
only the leaves. The more I think of it, the more difficult does 
the duty appear ; and I tremble at the thought of incurring such 



48 % MEMOIR OF 

a responsibility. I fear, however, that part of my reluctance 
arises from an indolent disposition, from an unwillingness to 
encounter the fatigues, the difficulties and dangers attending the 
performance of a clergyman's duty. I am afraid of conferring 
too much with flesh and blood." 

The next notices which he has left of himself are found in 
a manuscript volume, written in characters which it has been a 
long and difficult work to decipher. The following are the first 
two paragraphs : — 

*' July 25, 1805. This day, being my twenty-second birth 
day, I have determined to commence a diary, as a check on 
the misemployment of time." 

Same date. " Having resolved this day to dedicate myself to 
my Creator, in a serious and solemn manner, by a written cove- 
nant, I took a review of my past life, and of the numerous 
mercies by which it has been distinguished. Then, with sin- 
cerity, as I humbly hope, I took the Lord to be my God, and 
engaged to love, serve, and obey him. Relying on the assist- 
ance of his Holy Spirit, I engaged to take the holy Scriptures 
as the rule of my conduct, the Lord Jesus Christ to be my 
Saviour, and the Spirit of all grace and consolation as my Guide 
and Sanctifier. The vows of God are upon me." 

Subsequent entries in his diary show an ever-active desire to 
' pay the vows which his lips had uttered.' He made strenuous 
efforts to redeem the morning hours from sleep, that he might 
enjoy an uninterrupted season for reading the Scriptures, and 
other devotional exercises ; and, when he failed of this, he suf- 
fered much in consequence, and lamented it with deep feeling. 
His diligence in business, as well as fervor of spirit, are abund- 
antly apparent from the account which he has given of the em- 
ployment of every hour, from four in the morning to ten at 
night. In a letter to his parents, written on this anniversary, 
he speaks of having already 'paid considerable attention to 
divinity,' and of expecting, ' in another year, to commence 
preaching, if he should feel competent to such an undertaking. 



EDWAEDPAYSON. 49 

" Portland, July 25, 1805. 
" My dear parents, — This day, which completes my twenty- 
second year, renews the remembrance of the numerous claims 
your continued care and kindness have on my gratitude and 
affection. To you, next to my heavenly Father, I owe that I 
exist, that I am in a situation to support myself, and, what is a 
still greater obligation, to your admonitions and instructions I 
am indebted for all the moral and religious impressions which 
are imprinted in my mind, and which, I hope, under God, will 
give me reason to love and bless you through eternity. How 
can I feel sufficient gratitude to the Giver of all good for blessing 
me with such parents ! and how can I thank you sufficiently 
for all the kindness you have lavished upon me, as yet without 
return ! But it shall be the study of my life to show, that I am 
not utterly devoid of every sentiment of gratitude and duty. 
Pardon me, my dearest parents, for all the pain, the trouble, 
and anxiety I have given you, and believe me while I promise 
never knowingly to be guilty of any thing to increase the un- 
easiness I have already occasioned you. 1 consider it as one of 
my greatest blessings, that I am now in a situation which pre- 
vents my being a charge to you, and which, besides, might ena- 
ble me, in case of misfortune, to repay some small part of the 
kindness I have received. I, with all I do or may possess, am 
your property, for you alone put me in a situation to obtain it. 
And if there be any thing, (as I doubt not there is,) which 
would contribute to your happiness, in my power to procure 
for you, I most earnestly entreat you to let me know it; and 
if I do not, with the utmost pleasure, comply, cast me off as 
an ungrateful wretch, utterly unworthy of your kindness and 
affection." 

Mr. Pay son made a public profession of religion September 1, 
1805. He connected himself originally with the church in 
Rindge, under the pastoral care of his father, while on a visit 
to his parents during one of his quarterly vacations. Of his 
exercises in the near prospect of this solemn act, not a memo- 
rial remains. The record of them was probably destroyed by 
himself, as there is a hiatus in his diary from about a mouth 
previous to this event till the 19th of January following. It 
is not an omission, but an obvious mutilation. The only direct 

VOL 1. 7 



50 MEMOIROF 

allusion to this public dedication of himself to God is in a letter 
to his mother, written a short time afterwards, in which he 
says — "As yet I have no reason to repent of the step I took 
while at home. On the contrary, I esteem it a great blessing 
that no obstacles prevented it." He adds, "I have felt won- 
drous brave and resolute since my return ; but I rejoice with 
trembling. If I know any thing of 'myself, I shall need pretty 
severe discipline through life; and I often shrink at the thought 
of the conflicts that await me, but am encouraged by the 
promise that my strength shall be equal to my day." Never 
were apprehensions and hopes more signally realized. He who 
"tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," however, reserved the 
bitterest trials for a confirmed state of religious experience, mer- 
cifully indulging his servant with the light of his countenance, 
and a peaceful and happy progress in his pilgrimage, in its 
earliest stages. Oct. 6th, he writes — "I know it will add to 
your happiness, my dear mother, to hear that I possess a large 
quantity of that desirable commodity. Since my return from 
Rindge, bating a few disagreeable days after parting with my 
friends. I have hardly known one unhappy moment. The 
doubts which formerly obscured my mind are dissipated, and I 
have enjoyed, and do still enjoy, mental peace, and, at times, 
happiness inexpressible. When I am thus happy, it renders me 
so benevolent that I want to make every one partake of it, and 
can hardly forbear preaching to every man I see. At the same 
time, the thought of what I deserve, compared with what I en- 
joy, humbles me to the dust ; and the lower I get, the more 
happy do I feel ; and then I am so full of gratitude and love, I 
can hardly snpport it. My only source of unhappiness, at such 
times, is the moral certainty that I shall again oflend that God 
who is so infinitely, so condescendingly kind. This, indeed, 
seems impossible at the time ; it then seems that worldly objects 
cannot possibly again acquire an undue influence over my 
mind. ^^^* To think that I shall again become cold and 
inanimate, that I shall again offend and grieve the Holy Spirit, 
and perhaps be left openly to dishonor the holy name by which 
I am called — my dear mother, how distressing !" 



edward pay son. 01 

"October 29. 

-'These worldly comforts are nothing to the serenity 

ixiid peace of mind with which I am favored, and the happiness 
arising from love, gratitude, and confidence. Even contrition 
and remorse for having slighted so long such infinite and con- 
descending mercy, is not without a pleasing kind of pain. But 
I know this state of things is too good to continue long; and I 
hope I shall be enabled to take up with a much smaller number 
of the comforts of life without murmuring." 

In a letter, dated November 11th, he says, "The happiness 
I mentioned in my last, and in which you so kindly partici- 
pate, I still enjoy, though diminished, in some degree, by an 
examination I have been making respecting some important 
but perplexing truths." 

Some weeks after this he wrote — "I did not intend to say 
another word about my feelings; but I must, or else cease 
writing. I am so happy, that I cannot possibly think nor 
write of any thing else. Such a glorious, beautiful, consis- 
tent scheme for the redemption of such miserable wretches ! 
such infinite love and goodness, joined with such wisdom ! 
I would, if possible, raise, my voice so that the whole universe, 
to its remotest boimds, might hear me, if any language could 
be found worthy of such a subject. How transporting, and 
yet how humiliating, are the displays of divine goodness, which 
at some favored moments, we feel ! what happiness in hum- 
bling ourselves in the dust, and confessing our sins and 
un worthiness !" 

A solicitude for the spiritual welfare of others, which is 
among the early fruits of experimental religion, and one of the 
most pleasing evidences of its existence, was, in Mr. Payson, 
coeval with his profession of the faith and hope of the gospel. 
Of this his pupils, as was to be expected, were always the most 
interesting objects. — September 20th, he writes — " Last Satur- 
day, I gave my scholars six questions in the catechism, and a 
hymn to commit to memory on the Sabbath ; and, on Monday 
morning, after hearing them recite, 1 lectured them on the sub- 
jects about three quarters of an hour. They paid strict atten- 



52 MEMOIROF 

tion. It is, however, discouraging to attempt any thing of this 
kind, and a most lively faith alone can make it otherwise. Is 
it not astonishing, that those who have a just sense of the im- 
portance of religion are not more earnest in recommending it to 
others 1 One would suppose they could hardly refrain from 
preaching to them in the streets. The reason we do not is, 
we have not a just sense of it." 

" October 29. 
" I hope your narrative — for which I thank you — will have 
a tendency to stir me up. I feel a strong and abiding impres- 
sion on my mind, that all the good I enjoy my friends were 
stirred up to pray for ; and I hope I and my scholars shall reap 
the advantage of them in this case. When I look at them, and 
reflect how many dangers they are exposed to, what bad exam- 
ples even the parents of many set them, and how few hear any 
thing like religious instruction, I cannot express my feelings. 
Lately I feel a great flow of words when addressing them ; how- 
ever, it is just like speaking to dry bones, unless a divine bless- 
ing assist. If I could be the means of doing good only to one, 
what transport ! Thank God, it does not depend on the means, 
but on himself; otherwise I should give up in despair.'^ 

"January 15, 1806. 
" This morning I was highly favored in speaking to my 
scholars. I spoke nearly three quarters of an hour with some 
earnestness, though not so much as I could have wished. Ex- 
cept once, I have felt a very considerable share of freedom on 
these occasions. Your mentioning that you were enabled to 
pray for a blessing on these poor endeavors has been a great en- 
couragement to me. They are attentive, and a very perceptible 
diflerence has taken place in their attention to their studies. I 
hope that, sooner or later, they will become attentive to more 
important pursuits. I am almost afraid to write even to you, 
my dear mother, on these subjects, lest I should make some 
gross blunder, through my ignorance and inexperience. I have 
often observed, that persons who begin to read late in life are 
apt to think every thing they meet with in books as new to 
others as it is to them, and so make themselves ridiculous by 
retailing, as novelty, what every one knew before. In like 
manner, I am somewhat apprehensive of appearing to you, in 



EDWARDPAYSON. 53 

mentioning my own feelings, as one who is detailing last year's 
news ; for your ideas and feelings must be so far beyond mine, 
that it will require some patience to read my relations. How- 
ever, I trust to your goodness, and hope you will remember, 
that many things, which are now plain and common, were once 
dark and unusual to you. I am pursuing my studies pretty 
much at random, having no person to advise with." 

This anxiety for the souls of his fellow-creatures, marked his 
intercourse with associates of the same standing with himself. 
One of his valued companions in literary pursuits has furnished 
the following extracts : 

" December 2, 1805. 
" There is no worldly blessing that is not heightened by reli- 
gion, but none more so than friendship, whether it be between 
relatives by consanguinity, or those who are joined in marriage, 
or other friends. The idea of parting must imbitter the pleasure 
of the man of the world ; but the Christian, if he has chosen his 
friends aright, may hope to enjoy their society with more pleas- 
ure hereafter than he can now. For this reason I never should 
choose a partner for life, whom I could not hope to meet beyond 
the tomb." 

" December 9. 
''You ascribe, my friend, too much to age and a cultivated 
mind, wiien you speak of them as inconsistent with a ' stupid 
blindness respecting futurity.' Sad experience shows that age 
the most mature, and minds the most cultivated, are too often 
under the operation of such a blindness. Who, among the 
walks of science, ambition, avarice, or pleasure, is not blind to 
his own mortality ? Who is there that sees, that every hour 
of his life he infringes that law which says — ' cursed is every 
one that continueth not in all things written therein to do them'?' 
Who sees that his brittle thread of life is all on which he hangs 
over endless misery, and that, if any one of the many dangers 
to which he is exposed should be permitted to crush him, he 
would, in a moment, be the subject of despair 7 No age, no 
improvement of the mind, will make us see these truths to be 
such. We may assent to them, but our conduct shows we do 
not believe them. You do not yet, my friend, know the diffi- 
culty of the task. Consider, first, that the divine law extends 



54 M E M O I R O F 

to the thoughts, and that it makes no allowance for human 
infirmity, and then shut yourself up alone, out of the reach of 
temptation, and try for one hour to be innocent, and you will 
find, by the numberless foolish thoughts and vicious propensities 
arising in your mind, that it is no easy thing to be negatively 
good. When, in addition to this, you consider that sins of omis- 
sion are equally fatal with sins of commission, you must cer- 
tainly, if you know any thing of your own heart, give up in 
despair. I write this not to discourage you, but to urge the 
immediate commencement of a work so difficult and so impor- 
tant ; but still more to induce you to apply to One who can give 
you strength, and will give it, if asked for in a full conviction 
of your own weakness. You know nothing of your own heart ; 
and, though you may not assent to this now, the time, I hope 
and trust, will come, when you will assent to it. You may 
not now believe that naturally, like all others, you are an 
enemy to God and his goodness — but you must assent to it.'' 

'' May 8. 
*' Take my word for it, there is inexpressibly more enjoyment 
in religion, in this life, than the most happy sinner since crea- 
tion ever had to boast of. It appears gloomy at a distance, but, 
the nearer it approaches, the more delightful it becomes. You 
know that I am of a social turn, that I enjoy, or did enjoy, 
amusements about as well as others did, and that I have no par- 
ticular reason for flying from them. You know, too, that I love 
you, and would promote your interest to the extent of my pow- 
ers. You may then consider me, if you are so disposed, an 
impartial witness that the ways of Wisdom are ways of pleas- 
antness, and all her paths peace. I hope and believe that your 
own feelings may attest the truth of my testimony. That you 
may know more and more of it, is the sincere prayer of your 
friend.'' 

"July T. 
*' I dare pledge any thing most dear to me, that, if you per- 
sist in the diligent use of the means suggested, you shall no: 
long use them in vain. But, Avhat is infinitely more to the pur- 
pose, you have the oath of him who cannot lie, on which to 
ground your hopes. You have nothing to do but to ask for 
faith ; to come, as the leper did to our Saviour while on earth, 



EDWARDPAYSON. 55 

and throw yourself at his feet with ' Lord, if thou wilt, thou 
canst make- me clean ;' and rest assured that he will put fortli 
his hand and say — 'I will; be thou clean.' He is still as able 
and as willing, ***** to grant every request of this 
nature as he was on earth. If you really feel yourself a sinner, 
and that you have no power to save yourself, and are willing to 
accept of him as a Saviour, he is ready to receive you. Do not 
wait, before you accept his offers, to render yourself worthy of 
his favor by going about to establish a righteousness of your 
own. He will not be a half Saviour. He will do all or no- 
thing. If you mean to come to him, you must come as a help- 
less sinner ; not as the Pharisee, with a list of virtuous deeds 
performed, but as the publican, with — ' Lord, be merciful to me 



Scarcely two months had elapsed froni the time he made a 
public profession of religion, before Mr. Payson felt his mind 
embarrassed in relation to the doctrines of the Bible as under- 
stood by Calvinists. The first intimation of this perplexity is 
in the following words : — 

^' I have lately read Cole's Discourses. It is a very com- 
fortable doctrine for the elect, but not so for the sinner. My 
feelings say it is true, but reason wants to put in an oar. It is 
at once encouraging and discouraging to ininisters." 

He afterwards expresses himself more fully on this subject, 
and in a manner which shows that he did not take his religion 
upon trust, but that his subsequent firm adherence to the doc- 
trines of grace was the result of impartial examination. 

" I mentioned in a former letter that I had been reading Cole. 
Since that I have studied, with considerable attention, Edwards 
on the Will, and his treatise on Original Sin. I know not what 
to do. On one hand, the arguments in favor of Calvinism are 
strong ; and, what is more to the point, I feel that most of them 
must be true- and yet there are difliculties, strong difficulties, 
* * * * * ^ in the way. Icare very little about them, 
as it concerns myself; but to think that so many of mankind 
uuist be miserable, strikes me with disagreeable feelings, I 



56 MEMOIR OF 

wonder not that the unregenerate are so bitterly opposed to these 
doctrines and their professors, nor that they appear to them as the 
elTects of bhndness and superstition. Poor Dr. M. is sadly 
abused on this account, and the most consummate scoundrel in 
existence could not merit worse epithets than the clergy of * '* * 
* * =^ heap on him. I find, however, that I have much clearer 
views of the grand scheme of redemption than I had ; and as it re- 
lates to myself, it appears a miracle of love and mercy for which 
I never can feel, comparatively speaking, any gratitude. But 
v/ith respect to others, it does not appear altogether so excellent. 
I cannot, however, complain of any doubts of the truth of these 
points, more than I have of the truth of the Bible ; but I can- 
not reconcile them. I should make poor work at preaching in 
my present state of mind, for I could neither advance such doc- 
trines nor let them alone. Thus I am perplexed. I feel that 
they are true, yet seem to know it is impossible they should be 
so. I never would meddle with them, were I not, in some meas- 
ure, obliged to by the profession I have chosen. I almost long 
for death, that the apparent contradictions may be reconciled." 

There were practical questions, also, scarcely less embarrass- 
ing to his mind, and which it required no small skill in Christian 
casuistry to determine. On account of his situation, as well as 
the inexhaustible fund of entertainment which he could carry 
into company, he was frequently solicited to make one of a vis- 
iting party, and to mingle in society on various occasions. The 
nature of the trials hence arising, as well as their issue, will be 
seen from a few extracts : 

'^ After long doubting the propriety, and even the lawfulness, 
of mixing at all in society where duty does not call, and after 
smarting a number of times for indulging myself in it, — more, 
however, through fear of offending, than for any pleasure I find 
in it, — I am at length brought to renounce it entirely; and it is 
not a needless scrupulosity. It does appear a duty to shun all 
communication with the world, when there is no well-grounded 
reason to hope to do good. There are, to be sure, many very 
plausible reasons, but I doubt whether they will bear the test of 
scripture." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 57 

To one who urged him to go into society and frequent public 
amusements, he wrote : — x 

"Can a man walk on pitch, and his feet not be defiled? Can 
a man take coals of fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be 
burned? If he can, he may then mix freely with the world, 
and not be contaminated. But I am not the one who can do it. 
I cannot think it proper or expedient for a Christian to go into 
any company, unless necessity calls, where he may, perhaps, 
hear the name he loves and reverences blasphemed, or at least 
profaned, — where that book, which he esteems the word of 
God, will, if mentioned, be alluded to only to waken laughter 
or 'adorn a tale,' — where the laws of good breeding are almost 
the only laws which may not be broken with impimity, — and 
where every thing he hears or sees has a strong tendency to 
extinguish the glow of devotion, and entirely banish seriousness. 
I speak only for myself Others may experience no bad effects, 
but for myself, when I go into company, if it is pleasant and 
agreeable, it has a tendency only to fix my thoughts on earth, 
from which it is my duty and my desire to turn them, — to give 
me a distaste for serious duties, especially prayer and meditation 
and to render me desirous of the applause and approbation of 
those with whom I associate. I cannot avoid feeling some de- 
sire for its friendship; and this friendship, the apostle assures 
.us, and my own experience feelingly convinces me, is enmity 
with God." 

— "I have at length obtained satisfaction respecting my doubts 
about society; not, however, till I was brought to give it up. 
After I had done so, it appeared so plain and proper, that I won- 
dered how a doubt could ever have arisen on this subject. Now, 
I shall hardly see a person in a week, except our own family; and 
I have no doubt of being much happier for it. Two or three 
plain rules I find of wonderful service in deciding all difl&cult 
cases. One is, to do nothing of which I doubt, in any degree, 
the lawfulness; the second, to consider every thing as unlawful 
which indisposes me for prayer, and interrupts communion with 
God; and the third is, never to go into any company, business, 
or situation, in which I cannot conscientiously ask and expect 
the divine presence. By the help of these three rules, I settle 

VOL. I. 8 



58 



MEMOIR OF 



all my doubts in a trice, and find that many things I have hith- 
erto indulged in, are, if not utterly unlawful, at least inexpedi- 
ent, and I can renounce them without many sighs." 

Referring to the dangers inseparable from worldly society, 
he incidentally mentions one defence against their influence, 
which was only imaginary : — "I consider it a blessing, or en- 
deavor to do so, that I do not possess those talents for shining 
in company, which are so apt to lead their possessors into too 
great a fondness for gay and brilliant society. Yet, I confess, 
though I am sensible they would prove a snare to me, I am 
sometimes tempted to repine at the want of them ; and the grant 
of all my wishes would soon render me the most miserable of 
beings." The circumstances in which this was written preclude 
all suspicion of its being the language of affectation. 

His determination to exclude himself from company was very 
conscientiously formed ; and, so far was he from making his 
own practice a law for others in this matter, he expressly as- 
signs his " weakness and inexperience" as the reason why he 
"could not indulge in society without detriment." Besides, sit- 
uated as he was, he saw "no medium between the life of a 
hermit and that of a votary of pleasure." If such were the 
alternative, his decision is to be approved. It resulted from a 
right application of his " three plain rules," which are certainly 
scriptural, and worthy of universal adoption. This course was* 
not the fruit of misanthropic feelings ; for" no man was more 
susceptible of the delights of friendship, or more highly appre- 
ciated its benefits ; but how " can two walk together, except 
they be agreed 7" His heart now sighed for friendships found- 
ed on a religious basis. He speaks of " a friend, with whom he 
could converse on religious subjects, as having long been a desi- 
deratum;" and when he thought he had found such a one 
among his former beloved associates, he expresses the most ar- 
dent gratitude to the Giver of every good gift. "• I feel a satis- 
faction," he writes, "on this discovery, similar to what I should 
feel at meeting a townsman in a desert island. You, who live 
in the midst of Christian friends, can hardly conceive of it. 
Associates are pleasant in any pursuit, but especially so in this. 
Two are better than one. We shall together be better able to 
stand our ground against the assaults of ridicule and reproach ; 
and may animate and encourage each other in our course." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 69 

Having, in a letter to his mother, expressed himself as ready 
to give almost any thing he possessed for an "experienced 
friend," he anticipates her reply — "You will say, perhaps, 
the Bible is a friend, which, if duly consulted, would supersede 
the necessity of any other adviser. It may be so ; but we are 
apt to be bad commentators, where we are concerned ourselves. 
A friend can judge of our concerns, and give us better counsel, 
than, perhaps, he would give himself. We are but poor casu- 
ists in our own affairs." 

Some miscellaneous extracts will now be given. 

" December 8, 1805. 

" Though I have experienced many and great comforts, yet I 
am at times almost discouraged. My heart seems to be a soil 
so bad, that all labor is thrown away upon it ; for, instead of 
growing better, it grows worse. What a wearisome task, or 
rather conflict, it is, to be always fighting with an enemy, whom 
no defeats can weaken or tire. I am afraid, that many of my 
desires to be delivered from his power proceed rather from a sin- 
ful impatience, than a better source. But it is most distressing, 
when favored with manifestations of a Saviour's love, to think 
we shall again sin against and grieve him ; especially, in the 
sacrament of the supper, the idea that I shall certainly go away 
and offend him, who is there set forth crucified before me, im- 
bitters all my happiness." 

" December 25. 

" My dear sister : — I am not very prone to indulge the idea, 
that my happiness can depend on change of place; but when 
such fancies do gain admittance, home is always the scene of 
my imaginary bliss. It is, however, a remedy to consider, that, 
however we may be separated from our friends in this world, 
yet, if we choose them aright, we may indulge the hope of 
spending an eternity together in the next. 

" I have of late taken some pleasure in recollecting the pil- 
grimages of our old friend Bunyan, and see a striking propriety 
in many parts of them, which I did not then rightly understand. 
For some time past I have been with Tender Conscience in the 
caves of Good Resolution and Contemplation, and, like him, 
fell into the clutches of Spiritual Pride. It is astonishing, and 



60 MEMOIROF 

what nothing but sad experience could make us believe, that 
Satan and a corrupt heart should have the art of extracting the 
most dangerous poison from those things which apparently 
would, and certainly ought to, have the most beneficial effects. 
If I do not, after all, fall into the hands of old Carnal Security, 
I shall have reason to be thankful. There is such a fascination 
in the magic circle of worldly pleasures and pursuits, as can 
hardly be conceived without experience ; and I am astonished 
and vexed, to find its influence continually thwarting and hin- 
dering me. And so many plausible excuses are perpetually 
suggesting themselves, that compliance can hardly be avoided." 

"January 25. 

" My dear mother : — In one of the classics, which form part 
of my daily occupation, there is an account of a tyrant, who 
used to torture his' subjects, by binding them to dead bodies, and 
leaving them to perish by an imnatural and painful death. I 
have often thought the situation of a Christian is, in some 
respects, like that of these poor wretches. Bound to a loath- 
some body of sin, from which death alone can free him. and 
obliged daily to experience efiects from it not much less painful 
and displeasing to him, than the stench of a putrefying carcass was 
to those who were united to it, he must sufier almost continual 
torment. I have lately felt doubtful how far a due resignation 
to the divine will obliges us to submit with patience to this most 
painful of all trials, and since we know that perfection is not 
granted to any in this world, how far ought we to extend our 
prayers and wishes. I know there is little danger of being too 
much engaged in seeking deliverance from sin; but is there 
no danger of that fretful impatience, which we are apt to feel 
on other occasions, gaining admittance under the appearance 
of an earnest desire for holiness 7 And is not indolence, and a 
wish to be freed from the necessity of continual watchfulness 
and conflict, apt to insinuate itself into our desires and petitions 
for divine assistance 7 Sin is a sly traitor ; and it is but lately I 
discovered it in my bosom ; and now I am so much afraid of it, 
that I hardly dare ask assistance at all. 

" For this month past, I have enjoyed very little of that hap- 
piness which I once rejoiced in. Yet, blessed be God ! I am 
not left utterly dead and stupid, and am enabled to persevere in 



EDWARD PAYSON. 61 

the use of means, though they seldom seem so productive of 
peace as they once did. I hope I have clearer ideas of my 
strong, amazingly strong, propensity to every thing that is evil, 
and of the infinite and glorious sufficiency of my Saviour, than 
I had while my joys were greater. Then I was ready to flat- 
ter myself that sin was destroyed ; but now I find, by sad 
experience, it is not only alive, but extremely active ; and had 1 
not an almighty Helper, I should instantly give up in despair." 

" Portland, Feb. 9, 1806. 

" My dear mother : — For many reasons, it is impossible that 
my letters should be so acceptable at home as those I receive 
from home are to me. You have friends there, to divide your 
attention, to participate in your care, and to share and increase 
your pleasures. But I am alone. All my aflections must cen- 
tre at home, and, consequently, I must feel a greater desire to 
hear from home, and to receive assurances that I am not 
forgotten, than my friends can possibly have, to hear from me. 

" I find nobody, except at times, to whom I can communicate 
my joys, hopes, desires, and fears ; nobody who can participate 
my pleasures or sympathize in my griefs. It is, perhaps, best 
for me that it should be so ; but it is very unpleasant. Most 
of my acquaintances consider me, as near as I can guess, but a 
kind of hypocrite, who must, as a student in divinity, preserve 
a decent exterior, in order to be respected. However, it is some 
consolation, that they think the same of every one else. Their 
opinion is of very trifling consequence. One thing only I wish 
not to be thought, and that is what is commonly called a rational 
Christian, an epithet which is very frequently bestowed on 
young candidates, and which is almost synonymous with no 
Christian. Liberal divines are pretty much of the same char- 
acter." 

Portland, April 1, 1806. 

" My dear mother : — I am now entirely alone, and, except a 
visit once a fortnight from Mr. R., I see no face within my 
chamber from one week to another. It is sometimes unpleas- 
ant, but, I believe, very profitable, to be debarred from society, 
I am so prone to trust to broken cisterns, that nothing, but their 
being out of my reach, can restrain me. When I come home 
from school, weary and dull, if I had any earthly friends at 



62 M E M O I R O F 

hand, I should certainly appl}?" to them for relief; but, not hav- 
ing any, I am constrained to go where I am much more sure 
of finding it. I begin to find, that the smiles with which my 
early infancy was supported, are changing for the less agreea- 
ble, but certainly not less needful, discipline of education ; and 

what severe discipline, and how much of it, shall I require ' 

1 see already, that hard fare and hard labor will be necessary to 
preserve me from ' waxing fat and kicking ;' and if it has this 
effect, I shall welcome it with pleasure. It seems to me one 
of the worst of the hellish offspring of fallen nature, that it 
should have such a tendency to pride, and above all, spiritual 
pride. How many artifices does it contrive to hide itself! If, 
at any time, I am favored with clearer discoveries of my natur- 
al and acquired depravity and hatefulness in the sight of God, 
and am enabled to mourn over it, in comes Spiritual Pride, with 
* Ay, this is something like ! this is holy mourning for sin ; this 
is true humility.' If I happen to detect and spurn at these 
thoughts, immediately he changes his battery, and begins ; 
' Another person would have indulged those feelings, and im- 
agined he was really humble, but you know better ; you can 
detect and banish pride at once, as you ought to do.' Thus 
this hateful enemy continually harasses me. What proof that 
the heart is the native soil of pride, when it thus contrives 
to gather strength from those very exercises which one would 
think must destroy it utterly ! 

" My other chief besetting sin, which will cut out abundance 
of work for me, is fondness for applause. When I sit down to 
write, this demon is immediately in the way, prompting to seek 
for such observations as will be admired, rather than such as 
will be felt, and have a tendency to do good. My proneness to 
these two evils, which I have mentioned, makes me think I 
shall have but little sensible comfort in this world, and that I 
shall be tried by many and grievous afiiictions, in order to keep 
me humble and dependent. However, it is of no consequence. I 
know my great Physician is both able and willing to cure me, 
and I leave the manner to him ; trusting that he will enable me 
to take whatever he prescribes, and bless the prescription." 



edwardpayson. 63 

"Portland, June 17, 1806. 

" My dear mother : — After I have told you that I have been 
unwell some time past, and that I am now as well as usual, my 
stock of information is exhausted — unless, indeed, I still make 
myself the subject; and, for want of a better, I must. Owing 
partly, I believe, to my ill health, I have been much afflicted 
with doubt, whether it is not my duty to give up preaching at 
all. I want, at times, to get as far back into the country as 
possible, and, on a little farm, lead a life as much remote from 
observation, as circumstances will allow. It seems to me a lit- 
tle remarkable, that while I am harassed with doubts and per- 
plexities about every thing else, I feel none, or comparatively 
none, about my own state. If at any time such doubts intrud- 
ed, they were banished by that text, ' I am he that blotteth out 
thy transgressions, for mine own sake.' But, lately, the very 
absence of doubt has caused me to doubt ; for if I were a child of 
God, how should I be free from those doubts which trouble them ? 
But the greatest difficulty of all is, that the certainty which I 
almost ever feel of my safety, should have no more effect on my 
disposition and conduct. This seems to me more unaccountable 
than any thing else ; for even the devils, one would think, might 
and would rejoice to think of approaching happiness. 

"I have for some time, had something like a desire to become 
a missionary. I have not mentioned it before, because I doubted 
whether it would not be only a temporary wish. I should feel 
less backward to preach to savages, or white men little above 
savages, than any where else. However, I hope Providence 
will, some way or other, get me into the place where I shall be 
most useful, be it what it may. I do not feel very solicitous in 
which way or in what situation. 

" I shall be in Boston about the 23d of August, and, after com- 
mencement, set out for Rindge, should nothing prevent. At 
present, I can write no more. The bearer is booted, whipped, 
chaired, and waiting. 

" Present my most aifectionate regards to pa. I shall make 
great encroachments on his lime, when I come home. 

" Your affectionate son, 

''E. Payson." 

A desire to become a missionary, in 1806, was a less dubious 



64 MEMOIROF 

proof of expansive Christian benevolence, than it would be at 
the present day. The obligation of Christians to send the gos- 
pel to the heathen could not have been learned from any thing 
which the American Church was then doing, or had done for a 
long period. As to any visible movement, she appeared as 
indifferent to the claims of the unevangelized tribes of men, 
as though her Redeemer and Lord had not left it in charge, 
to ''preach the gospel to every creature." Mr. Payson was 
probably ignorant that another youthful bosom in the country 
panted with the same desire ; though it was about this time if 
not this very year — a coincidence which they who regard the 
works of the Lord, and the operation of his hands, will notice 
with pleasure — that Samuel J. Mills felt the desire, and formed 
the purpose, to devote his life to the service of Christ among the 
heathen — a purpose, however, which was known, first to his 
mother, and then to a few individuals only, till about four years 
afterwards. 

In the extracts which have been inserted from his letters, the 
reader has discovered his intimate acquaintance with the subtle 
workings of the human heart, and his unsleeping vigilance to 
detect and guard against its impositions. His self-knowledge, 
and the rigid self-inspection which he habitually maintained, 
would appear in a still more striking light from his private dia- 
ry, if that were spread before the public eye. Neither friends 
nor foes could name a fault in him, which he had not detected, 
and condemned in terms of unsparing severity. They would 
find their severest judgments anticipated ; and they would find 
too — what the world little suspects of the Christian — that the 
smallest trespasses were the cause of heart-felt lamentation and 
grief in those hours of secret retirement, when no eye but Jeho- 
vah's was witness to his sorrow. In his example, the young 
aspirant for fame might see an illustration of the wise man's 
maxim, " before honor is humility ;" and that the siArest path to 
an enduring reputation is found by " asking counsel of God," 
and "acknowledging him in all our ways." Faithfulness, 
either to the dead or the living, cannot, however, require, that a 
very free use should be made of the record of what passed in 
the inward sanctuary of his soul — a record obviously designed 
for his private use only, and in characters intended to be illegible 
by every eye except his own. So much will, nevertheless, be 



EDWARD PAYSON. 65 

inserted, as is necessary to substantiate the representations in 
this narrative, or disclose important facts in his history, which 
could be learned from no other source. 

EXTRACTS FROM HIS DIARY. 

" Feb. 5, 1806. For this fortnight past, I have enjoyed a tol- 
erable share of assistance, but nothing transporting. Slow pro- 
gress. 

" Feb. 7. Little opportunity for prayer in the morning; yet 
God was pleased not wholly to desert me during the day, and, 
in the evening, favored me with clearer views of the glorious 
all-sufficiency of my Saviour, and of my absolute need of him, 
than I have before experienced. I could, in some measure, feel 
that my deepest humiliation was rank pride, and all that I am 
or can do, is sin. Yet, blessed be God, I can plead the suffer- 
ings and perfect obedience of Jesus Christ, in whom, though 
weak in myself I am strong. 

" Feb. 8. There is no vice, of which I do not see the seeds 
in myself, and which would bear fruit did not grace prevent. 
Notwithstanding this, I am perpetually pulling the mote out of 
my brother's eye. 

" Feb. 9. Was much favored in prayer, and still more in 
reading the Bible. Every word seemed to come home with 
power. Of late, I have none of those rapturous feelings, which 
used to be so transporting ; but I enjoy a more calm and equable 
degree of comfort ; and, though slowly, yet surely, find myself 
advancing. 

" Feb. 11. A very dull day — almost discouraged ; yet I hope 
the experience I gain of my utter inability to think so much as 
a good thought, will have a tendency to mortify pride. 

" Feb. 15. Felt some liveliness in morning prayer, and some 
aspirations after greater measures of holiness. Resolved to ob- 
serve this as a day of fasting and prayer. After seeking 
divine assistance, reflecting on the innumerable sins, of which 
my life has been full, and on the great aggravations that en- 
hance my guilt, I attempted, I hope sincerely, to give myself and 
all 1 possess to God, in the renewal of my covenant engagements. 

"Feb. 16. Very dull and lifeless in the morning. Made a 
resolution to restrain my temper, and the next moment broke it. 
Felt more lively at meeting. In the afternoon and evening was 

VOL. I. 9 



66 MEMOIROF 

remarkably favored. I felt such an overwhelming sense of 
God's amazing goodness, and my own un worthiness, as I never 
had before. It gave me a most earnest desire to spend and be 
spent in the service of God, in any way he should please to em- 
ploy me. 

''Feb. 17. In the morning, felt strong in the Lord, and in 
the power of his might ; thought I could stand against all ene- 
mies, but soon was as lifeless as ever. When shall I learn that 
all my sufficiency is of God. 

"Feb. 19. What a poor, weak, unstable creature I am, 
when Christ is absent ! Read Baxter's Saint's Rest ; but though 
it is very affectingly written, I was totally unmoved by it. 

" Feb. 22. This is a day to be remembered. I determined 
to spend it in fasting and prayer, but was prevented. In the 
afternoon, received an invitation to spend the evening with 

, , &c. ; but, thanks to divine goodness, was enabled 

to decline it. I tasted much sweetness in the former part of the 
evening ; but in the latter part, I was favored with such dis- 
plays of divine goodness, as almost forced me to exclaim, Lord, 
stay thine hand ! 

" Feb. 23. Was again favored with the divine presence. I 
have some expectation of a heavy stroke impending. If it is 
so, God's will be done. 

" Feb. 24. A great falling off from the enjoyments and life 
of yesterday ; yet, blessed be God, I am not wholly deserted. 
I was much favored in speaking to the scholars, and they seemed 
rather more affected than common. But I have suffered much 
to-day from the attacks of spiritual pride. This, I already see, 
will be the enemy against which my efforts must be directed, 
and which will cost me most conflicts. But I trust in an al- 
mighty arm. 

" Feb. 26. I drag along without advancing. O, how dispro- 
portionate are my endeavors to the mighty prize for which I 
contend ! 

" Feb. 28. Resolved to spend this day in fasting and prayer. 
Did so, but found no relief. Was astonishingly dead and wan- 
dering. In reading Mr. Brainerd's life, I seemed to feel a most 
ardent desire after some portion of his spirit ; but, when I at- 
tempted to pray, it vanished. I could not even toourn over my 
coldness. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 67 

*' March 3. In the evening, partly by my own fault, and 
partly by accident, got entangled in vain company. Afterwards 
was in most exquisite distress of mind. Had a clearer view of 
my own sinfulness and vileness than ever. 

'^ March 4. I seem rather to go back than to advance. What 
a display of divine power, to make a saint of such a wretch 
as I! 

•* March 6. My time flies like a vapor, and nothing is done. 
When shall I begin to live for God ! 

^' March 8. I cannot accuse myself of indulging in any 
known sin, or neglecting any known duty; but I am so lifeless, 
so little engaged in religious things, that 1 seem to believe as 
though I believed not. 

" March 10. Found considerable freedom in prayer. Was 
too passionate in a dispute about a theatre. Had little freedom 
in speaking to the scholars. Was enabled to be diligent in fill- 
ing up my time. Was assisted in my studies. 

^' March 12. I act as if eternal things were a dream. When 
shall I be wise ! 

'' March 13. Favored with great liberty in prayer. AYas 
enabled to pray for others more than usual. 

" March 17. Thanks to divine goodness, this has been a 
good day to me. Was favored with considerable freedom in the 
morning, and rejoiced in the Lord through the day. But in the 
evening, felt an unu^al degree of assistance, both in prayer 
and study. Since I began to beg God's blessing on my studies, 
I have done more in one week than in the whole year before. 
Surely, it is good to draw near to God at all times. 

'• March 19. Less freedom in prayer than usual. In the 
evening, was betrayed into folly if not into sin. Could neither 
write nor read with any profit. What a miserable creature am 
I, when Jesus withdraws his assistance ! Was very positive in 
a trifle, and was justly punished by finding myself in the wrong. 
Hope it will prove a profitable lesson to me. 

'•March 23. Am much exercised respecting applying for 
license to preach, and afraid I am under the influence of im- 
proper motives ; but I trust my Guide will direct me. 

" March 28. Read Pike's Saving Faith ; and, though at first 
I was somewhat alarmed with fears that I had it not, yet, bles- 
sed be God, my fears and doubts were soon removed. I was 



68 MEMOIROF 

enabled to appeal to God for a witness of what he has done for 
me. I know that I love my Saviour ; and, though my love is 
infinitely short of his merits, I trust He who gave it me can 
and will increase it. I am sinful but He died for sinners. Felt 
unusual fervency and sweetness in prayer, and reading the 
Scriptures, and was encouraged to go on, striving for more ho- 
liness. 

''March 29. Renewed my covenant with God. Asked as- 
sistance to do it with sincerity. My prayer was answered in an 
unusual degree. I had a clearer view of my own vileness and 
depravity, and a more distinct and satisfying perception of 
Christ's all-sufficiency and goodness, by far, than I ever enjoyed 
before ; so that I was ready to think I had never known any 
thing of the matter. Was enabled to say Ahha Father I in the 
true spirit of adoption, and to exercise strong faith in Christ 
and love to him. 

" March 30. Had more comfort in ordinances than ever before. 
I was almost ready to think this the period of my conversion. 
The transport I felt was more rational and penetrating than I 
ever before experienced. It arose from an apprehension of the 
perfect sufficiency of Christ in all his ofiices, and from a clear 
discovery of God as my Father, so that I was enabled to trust, 
rejoice, and exult in him. 

'' April 2. Was enabled in some measure to guard against a 
peevish, impatient disposition. In the evening, unusually hvely 
and fervent in prayer. 

'' April 5. Was very much harassed with wandering 
thoughts this morning. Sought to Christ for deliverance, and 

found it Have fresh reason to think visiting is detrimental. 

In the evening, was exceedingly depressed with a sense of my 
vileness. I wished to shrink from society and observation. 
Could hardly think of attempting to preach. Threw myself at 
the feet of my blessed Saviour, and poured forth my sorrows 
and complaints before him. Yet I suspect there was more of 
self than any other principle in my tears. 

"Aprils. Was much exercised to-day on the subject of 
election, and other truths connected with it. Have been much 
in doubt respecting offering myself for examination next month. 
Fear I am not under the influence of proper motives. 

'■' April 13. Sabbath. Felt the love of God sweetly shed 



EDWARD PAYSON. ©9 

abroad in my heart. Continued in this frame all the morning. 
Derived much more advantage from ordinances than usual, espe- 
cially from the sacrament. A profitable day. 

*' April 14. Was in a comfortable frame this morning. Had 
some assistance in speaking to my scholars. But, alas ! my 
heart before noon betrayed me into sin. I fell into a passion 
with an inanimate substance ; and thought^ if I did not utter, 
curses. Was soon aroused to a sense of my folly and guilt. 

'• April 19. I know not why, but this has been the worst week 
I have had these six months. Believe I expected too much from 
the sacrament. 

" April 20. Had some sense of my miserable state, but little 
fervency in seeking relief Suspect the weather and my health 
have some influence on me. In the evening, had more fervency, 
but not more sensible assistance. Was, however, resigned to my 
Master's will, and enabled to trust in him. 

"April 26. Was much favored in my approaches to the 
throne of grace to-day. 

" May 1. Rose early, and had some life and comfort. Have 
been so much engaged in preparing my sermon for examination, 
that my mind has been much taken off from religion. I find 
writing sermons is not praying. 

" May 4. It is now long since I have enjoyed any of those 
sweet seasons of communion with God, which used to be my 
chief happiness. I fear I have neglected the Scriptures too 
much. Am determined to pay more attention to them. 

'•' May 13. This was the day in which I intended to be ex- 
amined before the Association, but it pleased Providence to pre- 
vent. In the evening, reflected on my late coldness and back- 
wardness in religion, and resolved, by the help of divine grace, 
to run with more alacrity the race set before me. 

" May 18. I think I never was so favored in prayer for so 
long a period in my life. At meeting, tolerably lively. In the 
intermission, and after meeting, was enabled to spend the time 
profitably, so that I never was favored with a more profitable 
Sabbath. 

" May 19. Enjoyed considerable fervor in the morning, 
and some life in speaking to my scholars. Engaged in a 
dispute at breakfast ; and foolishly became angry. Retired 
and prayed for him with whom I was angry, and for myself 



70 M E M O I R O F 

Was enabled, in a considerable degree, to conquer my anger in 
this matter. 

" May 20. Find some remains of anger, notwithstanding all 
my endeavors to suppress it. 

'' May 22. Since I began, in pursuance of my design, to read 
the Scriptures, I have enjoyed more of the divine presence than 
before. 

''May 23. Was favored in prayer. — Was applied to by 
the selectmen to deliver an oration on the 4th of July. Refused 
at first ; but, being persuaded to consider of it, pride and vanity 
Drevailed, and I foolishly complied. — Mem. Never to consider, 
\Vhen I have a presentiment, at first, what I ought to do. 

'' Sabbath, June 1. Sacrament. Enjoyed much of the divine 
presence and assistance in prayer and meditation. Have never 
had a more profitable morning. Found my Saviour in his 
ordinances. Hope I have found this a good day. Seemed to 
feel more property in Christ and his benefits than I had ever 
done before. After meeting, was filled with the blessed con- 
solations of the Spirit. O, how refreshing are those foretastes 
of heaven ! How ravishing the presence of Jesus ! Felt a 
full assurance of my interest in the blessings purchased by 
Christ. No doubts obscured the sunshine of my mind. God 
be praised. 

" June 9. Resolved to spend all the time before six in relig- 
ious exercises. Enjoyed some comfort in prayer. 

" June 15. Sabbath. Never felt such strong and lively faith 
in prayer as this morning. It seemed as if I had nothing to do 
but to take whatever I pleased. 

*' June 17. Was much harassed with wandering thoughts in 
morning prayer. Was much assisted in my studies. 

*' June 28. Felt myself exceedingly vile. Found no com- 
fort in the exercises of public worship. My oration is a snare 
to me. O, what an astonishing, bewitching power a thirst for 
applause has over my mind ! I know it is of no consequence 
what mankind think of me, and yet I am continually seeking 
their approbation. ; 

" June 29. Sabbath. Rose early, and was favored with the 
presence and assistance of the blessed Spirit in prayer. O, how 
sweet and refreshing it is to pour out our souls before God ! 
O, the wonderful and unmerited goodness of God, in keeping 



EDWARD PAYSON. 71 

me from openly disgracing my profession ! If he had left me 
one moment, to myself, I had been ruined. Next Sabbath is the 
sacrament. God grant that it may be a refreshing season to me, 
and many others. 

" July 2. Still harassed and perplexed about my oration. 
Could not have believed, that the desire of applause had gained 
such power over me. 

" July 4. Was enabled to ask for assistance to perform the 
services of the day. In the evening, felt in a most sweet, hum- 
ble, thankful frame. How shall I praise the Lord for all his 
goodness ! 

" July 5. Felt much of the same temper I experienced yes- 
terday. In the evening, was favored with much of the divine 
presence and blessing in prayer. — Mem. Applause cannot con- 
fer happiness ! 

*' July 6. Sabbath. My infinitely gracious God is still pres- 
ent, to make his goodness pass before me. He has been with 
me this morning in prayer, and enabled me sweetly to say. My 
Father^ my God. At the sacrament, my gracious Saviour favored 
me with some tokens of his presence. O that I could find words 
to express half his goodness, or my own vileness ! I hope 
my faith received some increase. But what I desire to praise 
my God for, is his wonderful goodness in assisting me against 
pride. 

" July 7. Still favored with the smiles of my blessed Lord. 
Surely his loving kindness is better than life. How conde- 
scendingly kind ! I hope he is teaching me the value of 
worldly applause, and how incompetent it is to afford happi- 
ness. I have had enough to satisfy me, if there were any satis- 
faction in it. But happiness is to be found in God alone. 

" July 18. Very little comfort in prayer. Have fallen into a 
sad, lifeless state the week past. Hope it will convince me, more 
strongly than ever, of my weakness and vileness. Sat up till 
2 o'clock at night, talking with Mr. , on religious top- 
ics. Found he had more to say in defence of Unitarianism, 
than I could have supposed. 

" July 23. I am entirely stupid. Am sensible of my situa- 
tion, and mourn over it, in some measure, but cannot escape. 

" July 24. No life at all. O that it were with me as in 



72 MEMOIROF 

months past ! In the evening, was favored with more of the 
divine presence than I have enjoyed this fortnight. 

" July 25. Spent the day, according to previous resolution, 
in fasting and prayer. Was favored with much of the divine 
presence and blessing, so that it was a comfortable and profita- 
ble day to me. Called to mind the events of my past life, the 
mercies I have received and the ill returns I have made for 
them. Felt a deep sense of my own unworthiness, and the un- 
merited goodness of God. 

'' July 27. Was alarmed with respect to my state, by read- 
ing Edwards on the Affections; but obtained comfort and 
assurance by prayer. 

" Aug. 2. Was much engaged in prayer, and thought I was 
humbled under a sense of sin. Was enabled to plead with 
some earnestness for spiritual blessings. But afterwards, read- 
ing an account of the conversion of some persons, I was led to 
doubt whether I had ever known what it meant, and was much 
distressed. 

"Aug. 3. Was again disturbed with apprehensions that I 
knew nothing of religion ; but, though I could not come to 
Christ, as one of his members, I threw myself down before 
him, as a sinner, who needed his mediation, and my doubts 
vanished. 

" Aug. 4. Rose with the impression, that all I had formerly 
experienced was a delusion, and that I was still an enemy to 
God. Was enabled to go to Jesus, and plead earnestly for mercy, 
not for my own sake, but for his. I seem determined, if I must 
perish, to perish at his feet ; but perhaps I was deceived. How- 
ever, my hopes began to revive. In the evening, foolishly went 
into company, and had no time for prayer. 

" Aug. 16. Seemed to be something more alive to divine 
things, this morning. Found some sweetness in prayer and 
reading the Scriptures. In the evening, was much assisted in 
preparation for the sacrament to-morrow." 



CHAPTER IV. 



Retires to Rindge, and devotes himself exclusively to his preparation for the 

ministry. 

In the month of August, 1806, Mr. Payson relinquished his 
charge of the Academy in Portland; and "after settling his 
business, went on board a packet for Boston," in which he 
remained several days, " tossed about by contrary winds, and 
wounded by the oaths and blasphemies of the wretches on 
hoard." He described " a set " of his fellow passengers by two 
words, indicative of all that is revolting to modesty and pious 
feeling, and suited to ''vex the righteous soul;" the bare men- 
tion of which would cause others to join him in the exclamation, 
•' How dreadful to spend an eternity among such wretches !" 
On the fifth day from his embarkation, the vessel " arrived in 
Boston in a violent gale of wind, attended with some danger." 
He tarried in the neighborhood, till after commencement, and, 
notwithstanding the ''noise and confusion, found more pleasure 
than he had expected, in meeting his classmates." On his way 
from Cambridge to Rindge, he rode as far as Groton ; but 
whether the stage rested there over night, or took a different 
route, and his desire to tread again the threshold of his beloved 
home, alone urged him forward — so it was, that he left the 
stage, and " walked home from Groton after six" in the evening 
and was at his journey's end "about four the next morning," 
ready to receive the congratulations of his friends." His father's 
house continued, from this time, to be his hallowed and chosen 
retirement, till he entered on the active duties of the ministry. 

VOL. I. 10 



74 MEMOIROF 

" Wisdom's self 
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude ; 
Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, 
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings." 

This step considered in all its aspects, may justly be regarded 
as one of the most important in Mr. Payson's life, and reflects 
the highest honor on his judgment and good sense. Four 
months previously to this time, as has been seen in the preceding 
pages, he seriously contemplated making application for license 
to preach the gospel. Whatever were the cause that prevented 
him, a gracious providence is visible in it ; not that he was par- 
ticularly deficient in sacred learning; on the contrary, his theolog- 
ical knowledge was probably equal to that of most candidates. 
Among the works which he is known* to have read with care, 
might be named Watson's Tracts, Witsius, Stackhouse, Jona- 
than Edwards, besides many works of devotion and practical 
divinity. Abstracts of several other treatises still exist in his 
hand- writing, which were made before he left Portland ; also a 
collection of " Thoughts on the Composition and Delivery of 
Sermons." Still, during all this time, he was invested with a 
public trust of no hght responsibility. His school must have 
mainly engrossed his time, his thoughts, and his cares. To. 
suppose that his professional studies were allowed more than a 
secondary claim to his attention, were to suppose him un- 
faithful to an important charge, which he had voluntarily 
assumed. And though he could hardly have been other than a 
distinguished preacher, even had he entered on the sacred office 
without further preparation, yet he would not have been the 
minister he afterwards was. This season of retirement has an 
intimate connexion with his subsequent eminence and useful- 
ness. To the occupations of these days of seclusion from the 
world, more than to any other means, may be traced his gigan- 
tic " growth in the knowledge of God," and that extraordinary 
unction which attended his performance of official duties. 

* His progress in some of them is noted in his diary, near the " hiatus ' 
already spoken of, which probably contained more notices of the same kind. 
The diaiy, which was " commenced as a check upon the misemployment 
of time," and which did at first record the occupations of eveiy hour, ere 
long became almost exclusively a record of his religious exercises and expe- 
rience. 



EDWARDPAYSON. 75 

This period of his history is memorable, and highly instruc- 
tive to the student of theology. Having, after much delibera- 
tion and prayer, chosen the ministry of reconciliation as the 
business of his future life, he gave himself up to the work of 
preparation with an exclusiveness and ardor perhaps never ex- 
ceeded. From every study and pursuit, whatever its charms 
and attractions, which was not directly subsidiary to his grand 
design, he resolutely divorced himself, — at least till he had 
acquired the art — analogous to the supposed properties of the 
philosopher's stone — "of turning all to gold." He seems to 
have concentrated and directed all his powers to the acquisition 
of spiritual knowledge, and the cultivation of Christian and 
ministerial graces, in obedience to the apostolical precept, " give 
thyself wholly to them." A decision once formed was with 
him usually final ; and, in executing his purpose, " whatever his 
hand found to do he did with his might." These, his permanent 
characteristics, were eminently conspicuous at this period, while 
learning to . 

"negotiate between God and man; 
As God's ambassador, the grand concerns 
Of judgment and of mercy." 

With the most exalted views of the holy office to which he was 
looking forward, and of the qualifications requisite to its* com- 
petent and successful execution, he sought them with a propor- 
tionate zeal, devoting himself to the study of the sacred pages, 
if man ever did, " with all the heart, and soul, and strength, 
and mind." 

For " Systems of Divinity," as drawn up by men, Mr. Payson 
seems to have felt but little reverence. It was not his habit to 
decry them as useless ; but he regarded them with a watchful 
jealousy, and felt it unsafe to trust to them, as his practice evi- 
dently demonstrates. He found " a more excellent way " to the 
Imowledge of his Master's will, by consulting directly " the law 
and the testimony." Thus to honor the " lively oracles " is the 
wisest and safest course for every man ; for to embrace a system, 
with the intention of retaining or rejecting it, either wholly or in 
part, as it shall afterwards be found to ag"*ee, or not, with Scrip- 
ture, is to incur the hazard of perpetuating error — since a man's 
theory is more likely to modify his views ot the Scriptures, than 



76 MEMOIROF 

the Scriptures are to correct the mistakes of his theory. This 
every one may have observed in regard to those whose senti- 
ments differ from his own. Before this time, indeed, the works 
of the most eminent divines of our own and other countries, 
which were then accessible, and which he is known to have 
read, had doubtless exerted some influence in forming his relig- 
ious opinions ; but he was obviously wedded to none. To 
none did he feel the attachment of a partizan ; he had not 
arrived to that state of mind which made him feel interested to 
defend an opinion because any human master had said it. The 
polluting and disorganizing tendency of loose opinions on the 
one hand, and the scarcely less deplorable effects of dogmatism 
on the other, which could not have escaped his observation, not 
less than the spirit of religion and his constitutional indepen- 
dence of mind, conspired to lead him to a just estimate of the 
value of human authority in matters of religious belief, and to 
consummate his reverence for the " sure word of prophecy," 
and his confidence in Revelatipn, as an adequate foundation for 
his faith, and an infallible guide in duty. 

' "Here is firm footing — ^all is sea beside." 

Most men, however discordant their principles, profess to 
have derived them from the Scriptures ; but, with Mr. P., this 
was something more than pretence. The Bible was with him 
the subject of close, critical, persevering, and, for a time, almost 
exclusive attention, his reading being principally confined to 
such writings as would assist in its elucidation, and unfold its 
literal meaning. In this manner he studied the whole of the 
Inspired volume, from beginning to end, so that there was not a 
verse on which he had not formed an opinion. This is not 
asserted at random. It is but a few years since, that, in con- 
versation with a candidate for the ministry, he earnestly recom- 
mended very particular and daily attention to the study of the 
Scriptures, and enforced his counsel by his own experience of 
the advantages which would accrue from the practice. He ob- 
served that before he commenced preaching,he made it his great 
object to know what the Bible taught on every subject, and, 
with this purpose, investigated every sentence in it so far as to 



EDWARD PAYSON. 77 

be able '• to give an answer to every man who should ask a 
reason for it." * 

In this way he acquired his unparalleled readiness to meet 
every question, on every occasion, whether proposed by a cav- 
iller or a conscientious inquirer, which, it is well known, he 
usually did in a manner as satisfactory as it often was unex- 
pected. The advantages hence derived were, in his view, 
beyond all computation. It secured for him the imlimited 
confidence of people in the common walks of life, as a " man 
mighty in the Scriptures." It gave him great influence with 
Christians of other denominations. It enabled him to confound 
and silence gainsayers, when they could not be convinced, as 
well as to build up the elect of God on their most holy faith. It 
furnished him, too, with ten thousand forms of illustration, or 
modes of conveying to ordinary minds the less obvious truths, 
with which he was conversant in the exercise of his ministry. 
He believed "all Scripture to be given by inspifation of God, 
and profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and for 
instruction in righteousness;" and he was himself a striking 
exemplification of its competency to render '' the man of God 
perfect, thoroughly furnished unto every good work." 

Of Mr. Pay son's devotion to the Scriptures there is evidence 
of a difterent nature from that which has just been given. 
Among his papers has been found a small manuscript volume 
containing '' Notes," on most of the books of Scripture. It is 
among the few interesting relics of this period of his life. The 
manuscript ends with remarks on 1 John. v. 8. Whether they 
were continued, in another volume, to the end of Revelation, 

* It is not here alleged that Dr. Payson comprehended all that is contained 
in the Scriptures, much less that he arrogated to himself such knowledge ; 
for though " the word of Chi'ist dwelt richly " in him, he doubtless continued 
to " increase in the knowledge of God " by every penisal of it, how often so- 
ever repeated, till the last, and even then saw as through a glass, darkly, 
compared with the visions of heaven. Some truths camiot be fully compre- 
hended, and may have various relations which never will be known on earth. 
Many things respecting unfulfilled predictions can be known by no man till 
after their accomplishment. But he had made every passage a distinct object of 
attention, and, if "hard to be understood," he could state to the inquirer the 
causes of the obscurity, and in the veiy fact find a powerful motive to humil- 
ity, diligence, and prayer for divme illumination, thus rendering the darkest 
texts " profitable." 



78 MEMOIROF 

does not appear. These notes are short in themselves, and much 
abbreviated in the form of expression, but bear marks of a kind 
and extent of investigation highly creditable to his learning* 
and judgment, as well as to his diligence and fidelity. Discrep- 
ancies are accounted for and reconciled ; figures are explained ; 
chronology, philosophy, topograhy, natural history, ancient 
languages, are made to contribute to the elucidation of Scrip- 
ture. Against prophecies, which have received their completion, 
are found references to the historical characters and events by 
which they are supposed to have been fulfilled. It is difficult 
to characterize these notes by any general term, except that 
they are exegetical, in distinction from practical and experimen- 
tal. Those on the New Testament are professedly collated, in 
part ; and, though the same should, on examination, be found 
true of the rest, the manuscript is evidence of his careful study of 
the Scriptures ; and for this purpose it was introduced to notice. 
To learn m(y~e fully Mr. Payson's estimate of the Scriptures, 
the reader should peruse, in this connexion, his sermon, entitled 
*' The Bible above all Price." In that discourse the preacher is 
much at home ; he treads on ground where he delighted to linger. 
He explores a field with whose riches and beauties he was famil- 
iar. He clusters together its excellencies with a dexterous and 
bountiful hand, and describes its efficacy like one who " spoke 
that which he knew, and testified that which he had seen." His 
familiarity with the Scriptures was strikingly apparent in his 
pulpit addresses generally ; not so much by long quotations as 
by their general spirit, and the sacred associations he was 
continually awakening. They bore prominent traces of the 
divine model he so faithfully studied, not in matter only, but in 
the manner of exhibiting it, — so plain, that his hearers could 
not but see it, — enforced by considerations so reasonable and 
moving, that they must feel self-condemned for rejecting it. 
They were not the cold abstractions of a speculative mind, but 
the doctrines which are according to godliness, clothed in the 
fervid language which affection dictates. They were not truths 

* To what extent Dr. Pay-son was familiar with tlie original language of the 
Old Testament, the writer is not informed. That it was among the objects 
of his attention at this time, there is evidence in his own hand-writing ; but 
none very conclusive that his acquaintance with Hebrew was minute and 
critical 



EDWARD PAYSON. 79 

merely ; but truths uttered by one who had felt their power, and 
experienced their consolations, under the influence of that Spirit, 
who, to use his own expressive language, " lives and speaks in 
every line." 

But there is another part of his example more difficult to imi- 
tate than the one just sketched. He prayed without ceasing. 
Aware of the aberrations to which the human mind is liable, he 
most earnestly sought the guidance and control of the Holy 
Spirit. He felt safe nowhere but near the throne of grace. He 
may be said to have studied theology on his knees. Much of 
his time he spent literally prostrated, with the Bible open before 
him, pleading the promises — " I will send the Comforter — and 
when he. the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all 
truth." He was especially jealous of his own heart, and to con- 
quer its evil propensities, subjected his body as well as his mind 
to the severest discipline. No man ever strove harder to "mor- 
tify the flesh, Avith the aflections and lusts.'' It is almost in- 
credible. Avhat abstinence and self-denial he voluntarily under- 
went, and what tasks he imposed on himself, that he might 
" bring every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ." 
He allowed himself only a small part of the twenty-four hours 
for sleep : * and his seasons of fasting were injuriously fre- 
quent. So far did he carry his abstinence from food, that his 
family were alarmed for his safety. Often has his mother, 
whom he most tenderly loved and reverenced, and whose 
Avishes were law to him, in every thing besides his religious 
principles, and intercourse with his Maker — in every thing, in 
sliort, Avhich did not bind the conscience — often has his mother, 
or a favorite sister, stood at the door of his chamber with a little 
milk, or some other refreshment equally simple, pleading in vain 
for admission. 

* The following division and appropriation of his time was entered in his 
diaiy about five weeks after his return to his father's : 

" Od. 5. Resolved to devote, in future, twelve hours to study ; two to de- 
votion; two to relaxation; two to meals and family devotions; and six to 
sleep." But this did not long satisfy him. His rigid notions of duty led him 
to subtract two hours fi*om the six devoted to sleep, and to multiply his sea- 
sons of fasting to a degi-ee which the human system could not long have 
sustained. A weekly fast, however, was habitual with him, from this time 
till his last sickness. 



80 M E M I R F 

The expediency or duty of such severe mortification turns on 
the question of its necessity to the attainment of the object, for 
which, in this instance, it was practised. If the subjection of 
the heart and mind, with all their pow^s, to Christ, could not 
otherwise be effected, he was unquestionably right ; for no sacri- 
fice or suffering, which is requisite to this, can be too great. 
" If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off; if thine eye cause 
thee to offend, pluck it out." It is moreover true, that the most 
eminent saints of ancient and later times have devoted frequent 
seasons to private fasting and prayer ; and the practice may, 
therefore, be ranked among the essential means of rapid and ex- 
tensive growth in grace. It were well for individuals, it were 
well for the church, if the practice should revive, and become 
common. "^ So far from weakening the charities of life, or 
diminishing the amount of active, social duties, it would greatly 
enhance them. We should witness a more vigorous and deter- 
mined piety, a more diffusive and efficient benevolence. 

Still the religion of Christ enjoins no needless austerities. It 
has at times called, and may again call, for the sacrifice of 
health, and life, and treasure ; for the renunciation of friends^ 
and home, and all its endearments. But in ordinary circum- 
stances, " Godliness is profitable unto all things — to the life 
that now is, as well as that which is to come." It did not 
require injurious excess of abstinence and mortification in one 
situated as Mr. Payson was. He afterwards saw his error — 
not in fasting, but in fasting so long — and lamented it. In this 
matter, his mother was the wiser counsellor. What she feared 
came upon him ; the unhappy consequences to his health were 
felt, it is believed, to his dying day. 

* There are some distinguished laborers in the vineyard of our Lord, who 
practise the essential duty here recommended, not so much by totally ab- 
staining from food beyond the accustomed intei*vals, as by " denying them- 
selves" at eveiy meal, and using a spare and simple diet at all times, — a 
course well adapted to presei-ve both mind and body in the best condition 
for biblical research and devotional exercises. This modification of the duty 
was much practised by Mr. Payson, and strongly recommended by him to 
the members of his church. He would have them, when fasting on their 
own private account, not " appear imto men to fast ;" but to come to the 
table, which was spread for their fjimihes, with a cheerful countenance, and 
partake sparingly of its provisions. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 81 

The truth is, Mr. Payson never did any thing by halves. 
Whatever were the objects immediately before him, he was 
totus in illis, wholly engrossed with them. He was therefore 
particularly liable, at this stage of his experience, glowing, as 
he did, with all the ardors of a first love, and panting for the 
honor of winning souls to Jesus, to give an undue intensity to 
the meaning of those passages which prescribed his personal 
duty. When he read the strong language of Paul — " mortify 
your members, that are upon the earth ;" and contemplated his 
example — ''I keep under my body, and bring it into subjec- 
tion ;" and desired above all things to be another such cham- 
pion of the cross ; his susceptible and ardent mind might have 
imbibed views of duty, which needed to be corrected by another 
remark of the same apostle — "bodily exercise profiteth little.*' 
When attended with the expectation, however latent, that it 
will purchase immunities, or merit heaven, so far from " profit- 
ing" at all, it vitiates the act, rendering it not only useless, but 
abominable. Such an expectation, however, was totally ab- 
horrent to all Dr. Payson' s views ; and its existence in the 
faintest degree is not to be supposed on any other principles 
than those which are common to men, whose deceitful hearts 
practise innumerable impositions, unsuspected by their pos- 
sessors. 

If "he who ruleth his spirit is greater than he who taketh 
a city," the rigid discipline and government, to which Mr. Pay- 
son subjected the passions of the mind, and the appetites of the 
body, afford the most conclusive proof of his real greatness, as 
well as of his decision and energy of character, and of his 
unshaken adherence to his purposes. Ignorance and preju- 
dice, under a show of superior discernment, will see in this 
conduct the future '• pope ;" for prejudice, like malice, will 
remain blind to one important fact, which should never be lost 
sight of in estimating Mr. Payson' s character. Except in 
things expressly enjoined in the Scriptures, he never, at this 
time or afterwards, made his own practice a law for others. 
If he "bound heavy burdens and grievous to be borne," he 
did not " lay them on other men's shoulders," but made his 
own bear their oppressive weight. He urged self-denial, prayer, 
and fasting, indeed, as he was obliged by the authority under 
which he acted ; but left the measure and degree to the decis- 

VOL. I ]1 



82 MEMOIR OF 

ion of each man's conscience. He knew more than others of 
the strength of depravit)?- in his own heart, and supposed he 
Jiad need of severe measures to subdue it ; that it was of a 
" kind," of which he could not be dispossessed " but by prayer 
and fasting." He rightly judged, too, that a minister of the 
meek and self-denying Jesus needed a more than ordinary 
share of humility and self-government, to be separated farther 
from the contaminations of the world than other men, and 
to have the habitual state of his affections more heavenly. 
Moreover, he had an overwhelming sense of ministerial respon- 
sibility, and looked forward to the office, not without hope 
indeed, but yet trembling for the results. Why then should he 
not learn to '' endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus 
Christ?" And yet thousands of nominal Christians will cen- 
sure this severe regimen, as criminal, by whom he would 
have been suffered to escape without animadversion, had he 
indulged in an occasional surfeit, and mingled in parties of 
pleasure. 

But who can say, that he was not moved by an influence 
which it would have been sinful to resist, at least till he had 
reached that limit, beyond which perseverance was excess? 
That God, who sees the end from the beginning, fits his 
instruments for the peculiar service which he is preparing for 
them. A great and arduous work was appointed for Mr. 
Payson, as the event proved. And for that kind of prepara- 
tion, which consists in fasting and communion with God, he 
had the high example of the Jewish lawgiver, and of One 
greater than Moses. Thus did Christ, our Exemplar, previous 
to entering on his public ministry ; and also when from 
among his disciples he " chose twelve, whom he named 
apostles." Thus did the apostles, after Christ's ascension, 
whenever they were called to set apart a brother to the work 
of the ministry. 

In this, however, and other duties, the time, manner, and ex- 
tent of which are left undetermined by the express statutes of 
Christ's kingdom, it is safer to act according to our convictions 
of duty, for the time being, than to make these convictions our 
unchangeable rule of conduct for future time. It is a wise di- 
rection, " Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thy heart be 
hasty to utter any thing before God." In binding ourselves by 



EDWARDPAYSON. 83 

VOWS to any course of conduct, regard should be had to our cir- 
cumstances, as social beings, dependent on one another, as Avell 
as on the Author of our existence. No man, perhaps, ev^ev 
reached any high degree of eminence, who did not form pur- 
poses and resolutions, and adhere to them, when formed, with 
some degree of constancy. There are obvious advantages in 
having our general course marked out before us — in prosecut- 
ing our various duties by system, and not at random. But when 
we descend to details, and assign, beforehand, to every hour of 
the day its employment, or oblige ourselves to fill up a given 
number of hours with a particular pursuit, we should not ov^er- 
look the limits of human ability, nor the thousand changes 
which may take place in our circumstances, and in our relations 
v/ith those beings, among whom God has placed us. In conse- 
quence of such changes, other duties may have a paramount 
claim to those very hours; and if our resolutions are formed 
Avithout an eye to such contingencies, they may prove a snare 
to us. Disappointments will be unavoidable ; vexation and 
discouragement will ensue. It is not to be presumed that Mr. 
Payson formed his purposes without reference to the vicissitudes 
of the human condition. Still, his chagrin on failing sometimes 
to accomplish them, affords reason to think that he might have 
been too sanguine. It is a little remarkable, that the next day 
after he had sketched the plan for his future daily employment, 
unforeseen events necessarily prevented his executing it : — 

"Oct. 6. In great confusion this morning — sister sick — 
father going a journey — little time for prayer. Was so much 
hindered in various ways, that I did not fulfil my twelve hours " 

From causes equally beyond his control, he often failed of 
accomplishing all that he prescribed to himself. Such were, 
nevertheless, his most laborious days. When hindered and 
diverted from his object, he would goad himself onward to ex- 
traordinary exertion ; and when successful in executing his 
plan, his satisfaction was exquisite. 

The influence of habitual prayer upon his studies, was so 
certain, and so operative, that the strength of his devotion 
seems, for the most part to have been the measure of his pro- 
gress. By his very near approaches to the Father of lights, his 



84 MEMOIROF 

mind received, as it were, the direct beams of the Eternal 
Fountain of iUumination. In the Hght of these beams, the 
truths of rehgion were distinctly perceived, and their relations 
readily traced. These irradiations from the throne of God not 
only contributed to the clearness of his perceptions, but imparted 
a kind of seraphic energy and quickness to his mental opera- 
tions. From them he derived, not light only, but heat. Few 
requests were urged by him more constantly and earnestly, 
than his petitions for assistance in study ; and not unfrequently 
he records results similar to the following — " Was much assisted 
in my studies this evening, so that, notwithstanding I was inter- 
rupted, I was enabled to write twelve pages of my sermon. It 
was the more precious, because it seemed to be in answer to 
prayer." Those, who would esteem such an " evening's work " 
as too insignificant to be noticed with special gratitude, should 
know, that he had now been only part of a month in his retire- 
ment. Three days later he writes — '' Was most remarkably 
assisted in study, so that I wrote three fourths of a sermon." 
And on the other hand, there are entries of a different character. 
One may serve as a specimen : — 

" Sept. 23. Was quite dull and lifeless in prayer, and, m 
consequence, had no success in study." 

Sometimes even his " lively," fervent prayers were not fol- 
lowed by immediate returns ; but when the answer was granted, 
it brought with it a rich compensation for the extreme per- 
plexity and distress, which the delay occasioned him : — 

" March 4. Was entirely discouraged respecting my studies, 
and almost determined to give up in despair. But see the 
goodness of God ! He enabled me to write a whole sermon, 
besides reading a great deal ; and in the evening, was 
pleased to lift up the light of his countenance upon me. O, 
how refreshing, strengthening, and animating are his smiles ! 
How ravishing the contemplation of his holiness, love, wis- 
dom, power and goodness ! He seemed to be a boundless 
ocean of love ; and the sight caused my heart to expand with 
love to him and all his creatures. O. how trifling do earthly 
beauties appear, when he is pleased to unveil his face, and 



EDWARD PATSON. 85 

give a glimpse of heaven ! His holiness is the chief glory of 
his nature." 

But in nothing was his progress more rapid, than in self- 
knowledge. Here — whether success or disappointment crown- 
ed his other pursuits — he was continually extending his 
discoveries. To those who are ignorant of " the plague of their 
own heart," his confessions of sin must appear extravagant, 
and his description of his heart, a picture having no original 
save in an apostate spirit. He calls it " a compound of every 
thmg bad." He likens it to the " bottomless pit ; out of it, 
as soon as the door, with which the Holy Spirit covers it, is 
opened by his absence — a thick, noisome smoke arises, with a 
tribe of helhsh locusts, that devour the tender plants of grace, 
and bring on a darkness which may be felt." Now, he is 
" crushed into the very dust by a recollection of the sins of his 
youth;" — now, "filled with distressing feelings, and loses all 
hope, that he shall ever be fit to preach ;" while these very 
feelings he attributes to a criminal cause, as, " disappointed 
pride, and a conscious inferiority to others." At another time, 
he is " brought into temptations, which show his inward cor- 
ruptions, against which he had been praying," or which he had 
not before suspected in himself Again, if he "attemg^ to ap- 
proach the throne of grace, whole floods of evil imaginations 
carry him away! so that he is fain to have recourse to un- 
thought-of methods to get rid of them." And, not to prolong 
the enumeration, he is oppressed with " such a sense of his 
insignificance and vileness, that it seemed as if he should never 
open his mouth any more, to boast, complain, or censure." 

Still, his religion diftered as widely from that of the mere 
ascetic, as Christian charity differs from selfishness. Its fruits 
demonstrate the genuineness of the stock. His first care was, 
indeed, to have his own ''heart right with God;" but he was, 
at the same time, fertile in good devices, and prompt to execute 
them. To his mother, under domestic trials, the nature 
of which, though not indicated, appears to have caused her 
bitterness of soul, he was eminently '-' a son of consolation." 
To other members of the family he strove to be useful. The 
eye, that could penetrate the walls of his chamber, might have 
seen him conducting a younger brother to the throne of grace, 



86 MEMOIROF 

kneeling with him before the mercy-seat, and interceding with 
God for his salvation. He encountered a journey for the ex- 
press purpose of visiting an early friend, of whose piety he had 
once some hope, but who, he feared, had now become indiffer- 
ent to the one thing needful — that he might know his state, 
and encourage him to seek that good part, which could not be 
taken from him. And so much were his benevolent feelings 
drawn forth towards the inhabitants of his native town, that he 
spared no suitable exertions for their spiritual good. A revival 
of religion among them was the subject of fervent prayer ; and 
in the same object he endeavored to enlist other Christians. He 
procured, through the agency of his mother, the institution of a 
weekly meeting of female members of the church, for united 
prayer that the work of God might be revived. In short, so 
far was he from being bound up in self, that he exerted himself 
for the good of others in such ways as were proper for one in a 
state of pupilage. 

Even in the most distressing parts of his experience, there 
are di^scoverable those characteristics, which distinguish it 
from the torturing convictions of the unrenewed soul. If he is 
in " a sullen, stupid frame," it is not without " some melting 
desires after God." If he is well-nigh '' overcome by tempta- 
tion," il is that he may '-rejoice the more at his deliverance, 
when God gives him the victory." If he is '' discouraged be- 
cause of the difficulties of the way, and the small progress 
which he makes," just as " all hope seems departing, the fire 
burns within him." Uniformly, his war is with himself, and 
not with his God. And if to prevent the night-watches, that 
he might meditate on God's word ; if to love the habitation of 
his house, and the place where his honor dwelleth ; if to ac- 
count himself and all things else as nothing for Christ's sake ; 
if to know in whom he has believed, and to draw near to him 
in full assurance of faith ; if to be satisfied as with marrow 
and fatness, while remembering God and meditating on him in 
the night-watches ; if to prevent the dawning of the morning 
by the cries of prayer ; if to prefer Jerusalem above one's 
chief joy — are scriptural marks of piety; then is his placed 
beyond suspicion. All these, and more, will be recognised in 
the extracts from his journal, with which this chapter con- 
chides : — 



EDWARDPAYSON. 87 

"Sept. 29. Had a most transporting view of God's glory as 
consisting rn pure holiness. I rejoiced greatly that he reigned, 
and could exalt his own glory. Henceforth, I will not doubt 
of my character ; for I know, yea, assuredly know, that I love 
God, my Saviour, and holiness. 

''Oct. 19. Sabbath. Rose with thoughts of God on my 
mind. Was exceedingly assisted in secret and in family prayer. 
Never had my desires and affections so much drawn out after 
God and holiness. Was filled with the gracious influences of 
the Spirit, so that I rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of 
glory. Never did earth appear so small, heaven so desirable, 
the Saviour so precious, holiness so lovely, God so glorious, as 
now. In reading the Scriptures, they seemed to open with a 
clearness and force which delighted and astonished me. Such 
a sv/eet, calm, soul-satisfying joy I never felt before in so great 
a degree. Nothing on earth seemed worth a serious thought, 
but to glorify God. Had much of the same temper through the 
day. Was more assisted at meeting than ever before. In the 
evening, had a clearer sense of the evil of sin, a greater hatred 
of it, and more fixed resolutions against it than ever. This has 
been by far the most profitable and blessed day to my soul, that 
I ever experienced. God be praised ! 

" Oct. 25. Was much depressed with a view of the numer- 
ous enemies which oppose my journey heavenward. Had a 
faint glimpse of Christ, as able to carry me through in spite of 
all. Never before had such a clear idea of the passage — If the 
righteous scarcely are saved. Seemed to be plunged in a bot- 
tomless ocean of sin and corruption, from which no efforts of my 
own could free me. 

" Nov. 2. Sacramental Sabbath. Blessed be God, who has 
caused his loving kindness to appear. Enjoyed much assistance 
in family and secret prayer. Was enabled to drag my sins to 
Christ, beseeching him to slay them for me. Afterwards, en- 
joyed great sweetness in meditation. Was preserved, in some 
measure, from wandering thoughts at meeting. Had a profit- 
able, though not a very happy time at communion. After meet- 
ing, was favored with considerable liberty in family and secret 
devotions. 

" Nov. 10. Had petitioned, last night, that I might awake 
at a given hour: my petition was granted, and I was assisted 



88 MEMOIROF 

in prayer.^ Felt my dependence on God for strength. "Was 
surprisingly favored all day. Was in a sweet, humble frame. 
1 admired and loved the work, which Christ had wrought in 
my heart by his Spirit, just as I should have admired it in any 
other. My faith seemed to be unusually strong, able to grapple 
with any thing. I felt all day, that I depended entirely on Christ 
for the continuance of my strength. 

" Nov. 18. After retiring to rest last night, Avas favored with 
an extraordinary display of divine grace. I rejoiced that the 
Lord reigned, that Jesus was exalted far above principalities 
and powers. I was permitted to approach very near him, and 
to plead with much confidence and earnestness for myself and 
others. Waked several times in the night in the same frame. 
In the morning was favored with still clearer views, and more 
near access to my Saviour, and rejoiced with joy unspeakable 
and full of glory. Could not find words to utter my praises for 
such goodness. Had, too, a most humiliating view of my own 
vile and odious nature. 

" Nov. 19. My gracious God is still loading me with his un- 
merited goodness. His mercies follow each other, as wave 
follows wave, and the last seems ever the greatest. This 
momingj I seem to enjoy the happiness of heaven. 

*' Nov. 21. Resolved to spend this day in fasting and prayer 
for greater measures of grace, and assistance to render me more 
humble and concerned for God's glory; for more love to God 
and his people, and for ministerial qualifications. After seeking 
the divine presence, for which I was enabled to plead with great 
earnestness, and a feeling sense that I could do nothing without 
it, I endeavored to recollect and confess my sins. I saw myself 
exceedingly vile, seemed the chief of sinners, to be worse than 

* Referring to an alternative, which might affect his temporal comfort 
merely, and not his usefulness, Mr. Payson somewhere says — "I would not 
degrade prayer so much as to make it the subject of a petition." Those who 
thmk he here forgets his own maxim, should know that the loss of his morn- 
ing hours was followed by a day of comparative uselessness and misery. It 
is, however, our shame, that the standard of personal piety should now ren- 
der necessary an apology for such childlike simplicity in the devotions of a 
man of his acknowledged magnanimity. In nothing does he appear more 
worthy of imitation, than in his constant recognition of a Superintending 
Providence, and in literally acknowledging God in all his ways. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 89 

the evil spirits, and thought that the lowest place in hell was 
my due. * * * ^ I felt the most ardent desire for God's 
glory, and was willing to be a stepping stone, or any thing, 
however mean, to promote it. To be a fellow-laborer with Christ, 
in the glorious Avork of bringing souls to him, seemed to be the 
most delightful and honorable of all offices; and in this service, 
I felt wilhng to spend and be spent; to suffer pain, contempt, 
and death itself. Felt a most intense love for Christ's people, 
and was willing to be below them all. 

" Nov. 26. As soon as I awoke, felt my soul go forth in 
longing after more holiness, and promised myself much comfort 
in prayer. But my Lord withdrew himself, and I could do 
nothing. Felt convinced that it was a dispensation of love for 
my good. 

'' Nov. 29. Never was enabled to plead with such earnest- 
ness and submission before. My mouth was filled with argu- 
ments, and I seemed to have both my Saviour and the blessed 
Spirit go with me, and plead for me at the throne of grace. 
Was favored with a clear view of my Saviour's beauty and ho- 
liness, and of the scheme of salvation by him. What a glorious 
design, and how worthy of its Author ! 

" Dec. 1. Favored with an uncommon spirit of prayer. 
Saw that, as a member of Christ, I might pray with as much 
certainty of being heard as Christ himself. Was enabled to 
plead his merits, sufferings, death, God's gracious promises, 
what he has already done for me, the operations of his own 
Spirit, and his own conduct in hearing others — as reasons 
why he should hear me. ^ ^ * Was graciously assisted in 
pleading, till I received an answer of peace. Was most sweetly 
melted with a view of the love of the blessed Trinity, dis- 
played in the work of redemption, and the vile, ungrateful 
returns I had made. 

'' Dec. 5. Felt a full persuasion, that my present dark, com- 
fortless state is only designed for good, to teach me humility, 
dependence, and weanedness from the world ; and if it has this 
effect, I welcome it with joy. 

"Dec. 6. All my proud and selfish feelings seemed to be 
annihilated. I saw and rejoiced, that Jesus had no need of me ! 
and that he would be praised by others, if not by me, to 
all eternity ; and, provided he could be glorified, I cared 

VOL. I. 12 



90 MEMOIROF 

not how, or by whom. How sweet to have pride and self 
subdued ! 

" Dec. 9. Determined to spend this day in fasting and prayer 
for myself and the advancement of religion in this place. Had 
great and special assistance last evening, and now, in pleading 
for the outpouring of the Spirit here, and for help in the duties 
before me. After thinkhig over my manifold transgressions, my 
sins against light and love, and confessing them, — I attempted 
to plead my Saviour's death and righteousness, for pardon and 
reconciliation. I could not obtain it, but was for three hours in 
great perplexity and distress, and was more than once on the 
point of giving up in despair. However, I Avas enabled to con- 
tinue reading the Scriptures and praying till afternoon, when the 
cloud dispersed, and my Saviour shone out brighter than ever 
before. How did my soul rejoice, and plead for sanctifying 
grace ! Was exhausted and worn out, but continued praying, 
or trying to pray, till night. 

" Dec. 16. Was enabled to realize, for the first time in my 
life, what Christ suffered, and for what a wretch he suffered. 
Was so overwhelmed with the view, that I could not, for some 
time, shed a tear. O how hateful did sin appear. 

" Dec. 17. Was much assisted in writing on Christ's passion. 

" Jan. 4, 1807. Was favored with a spirit of prayer beyond 
all my former experience. I was in great agony, and wrestled 
both for myself and others with great power. God seemed to 
bow the heavens and come down, and open all his treasures, 
bidding me take what I would. 

'' Jan. 6. Was not favored with that sweet sense of pardon, 
which I usually find on occasions of fasting ; but I had a quiet, 
peaceful, resigned frame, and felt none of those repining thoughts, 
which the absence of sensible comforts is apt to excite. 

" Jan. 20. Was amazingly assisted in prayer for myself, pa- 
rents, friends, and a revival of religion. 

'' Jan. 21. Was favored with the clearest views of the glory 
of heaven, as consisting in holiness, that I ever had. 

'' Jan. 29. Never felt such longings after God, or such a 
desire to depart and be with Christ. My soul thirsted for more 
full communion with my God and Saviour. I do not now feel 
satisfied, as I used to, with the manifestations of the divine 
presence, but still feel hungry and craving. 



EDWARDPATSON. 91 

'' Feb. 2. Was amazingly given up to wandering imagina- 
tions. If I attempted to pray, in a moment my thoughts were 
in the ends of the earth. If I attempted to read the Bible, every 
verse, almost, afforded ground of doubt and cavilling. This 
fully convinced me that Satan is able to make me doubt even 
the existence of God. 

" Feb. 18. Was enabled to lie at Jesus' feet, and to wash 
them with the tears of contrition. No pleasure I have ever 
found in religion superior to this. 

'' Feb. 20. Resolved to spend the day in fasting, and had 
considerable assistance. Had clearer views of the majesty, pu- 
rity, and holiness of God, than usual, and this made me abhor 
myself, and repent in dust and ashes. 

" Feb. 28. Was favored with great enlargement in prayer. 
Seemed to be carried out of myself into the presence of God. 

" March 2. Seem to be declining; am less grateful, less fer- 
vent, than I was, and have less tenderness of spirit. Yet I am 
less apt to think much of myself than I was. and hope I am 
growing in humility. This seems the most lovely grace, and 
most becoming sinners. 

" March 7. Were it not for the promised help of my Sa- 
viour, I would think no more of preaching, but rather labor for 
daily bread. 

'' March 12. Never appeared so exceedingly vile and loath- 
some to myself as I did this day. It seemed as if I could not 
endure to be near myself No words could express any thing 
like the sense I had of my unworthiness. It seemed as if I could 
not, for shame, ask God to save me. I felt like sinking into the 
dust, in the idea that his pure eye was fixed upon me, and that 
saints and angels saw how vile I was. 

^' March 15. Sabbath. Rose very early, and was favored 
with sweet fervency and communion with God in prayer. 
Went to bed, and lay till morning. Enjoyed great liberty in 
prayer several times before meeting. 

" March 17. Was favored with a peculiar experience this 
morning. I thought I knew that I could never heal myself be- 
fore ; but I was made to know it in a different manner now. 
I saw, with most convincing clearness, that neither I, nor all 
created beings, could do the least thing towards delivering me 
from my sinful nature. I saw that I depended entirely on the 



92 



MEMOIR OF 



free mercy of God ; and that there was no reason but his own 
good pleasure, why he should ever afford me that assistance. 
Felt, for the first time in my life, what the apostle meant by 
*' groanings which cannot be uttered j" and my desires after 
holiness were so strong, that I was in bodily pain, and my 
soul seemed as if it would burst the bands which confined it 
to the body. 

'' March 19. [At the close of a day of fasting and prayer.] 
I find that, even when the spirit is willing, the flesh is 
weak. No days are so fatiguing as those which are spent 
in fervent and continual exercises of religion. It will not be so 
in heaven. 

" March 26. Spent the day in fasting and prayer. Was fa- 
vored with near access to my heavenly Father, and a realizing 
sense of his perfections. O how sweetly was I enabled to 
praise and admire his love and goodness in his works ! 

" March 31. Spent this day fasting, but not in prayer ; for I 
could not put up a single petition. Was entirely deserted, and 
was ready to say, Surely it is in vain to seek after God. I 
could not see that I had advanced one step in holiness, and was 
ready to think I never should ; yet could think of nothing else 
worth pursuing or living for. Doubted whether it were possible 
that I should know any thing of true religion, and yet be so en- 
tirely barren. 

" April 7. In fasting and prayer, was favored with much of a 
spirit of supplication. I now seem to be lifted above those dis- 
couraging, desponding doubts, which have for some time clogged 
my soul. No good comes of doubting, or of brooding over 

OUR SINS. 

'• April 14. Spent this day in fasting and prayer. Was 
wholly deserted, except that I saw more of my natural deprav- 
ity, and the consequent pollution of all my duties, than ever be- 
fore. Saw more, too, of the glory and greatness of the work of 
redemption, than I had previously. 

" April 22. Spent this day in fasting and prayer. At first 
was stupid ; but soon God was pleased to lift up the light of 
his countenance upon me, and visit me with his free Spirit. O 
how infinitely glorious and lovely did God in Christ appear ! 
I saw, I felt, that God was mine, and I his. and was unspeaka- 
bly happy. Now, if ever, I enjoyed commimion with God. He 



EDWARD PAYSON. 93 

shone sweetly upon me, and I reflected back his beams in fer- 
vent, admiring, adoring love. Had a most ravishing view of 
the glories of heaven, of the ineffable delight with which the 
Lord Jesus beholds the happiness which he has purchased with 
his own blood." 



CHAPTER V. 



His state of mind in the immediate prospect of the ministry 



The time now drew near, when Mr. Payson was to receive 
license, agreeably to Congregational usage, to preach the gospel. 
His spirituality appears to have increased as that interesthig 
era of his life approached. Most sensibly did he feel that he 
"was no longer his own, but bought with a price," and "called 
by grace to serve God in the gospel of his Son." " The world 
was crucified to him, and he to the world." His piety was dis- 
tinguished by more frequent acts of self-dedication to God, not 
by short ejaculations and a general surrender merely, but with 
great deliberation, attended by a minute survey of the relations 
of the creature to the Creator, and of the obligations recognised 
and assumed by such a consecration. Happily, one specimen 
of the manner in which he gave himself up is preserved ; and, 
though it describes the secret dealings of the soul with its God, 
it is hoped that it will not be desecrated by being brought out 
to the light. If, however, the reader never felt the awe which 
is created by a consciousness of the divine presence — if he 
never experienced the emotions of an ancient pilgrim, when, pre- 
paring for a similar transaction, he exclaimed, " How dreadful 
is this place !" — he is urgently requested to pause. If he is 
conscious of any other feelings than those of profound solemni- 
ty, let him leave this chapter unread. In it he will find nothing 
with which a mind given to levity, or vanity, or pride, can pos- 
sibly sympathize. If he ventures to proceed, he will be met at 
the threshold, if not by " a drawn sword in the hand of the 
Captain of the Lord's host," by that which is scarcely less ap- 
palling to an earthly mind, and which will render almost equally 



EDWARDPAYSON. 95 

appropriate the order addressed to Israel's leader — ''Loose thy 
shoe from off thy foot ; for the place whereon thou standest is 
holy." 

"May 1, 1807. Having set apart this day for fasting and 
prayer, preparatory to the celebration of the Lord's supper, I 
rose early, and sought the divine presence and blessing, in which 
I was favored with fervency and freedom. My petition was, 
that I might be enabled to see my own character, contrasted 
with the purity of God, and his lioly, just, and good law ; that 
I might be assisted in renewing covenant with God, and in giv- 
ing myself up to him, and that 1 might be favored with minis- 
terial qualifications. After this, I drew up the following 

CONFESSION AND FORM OF COVENANT. 

*' O thou High and Holy One, that inhabitest eternity, whose 
name alone is Jehovah, — who art the one, great, eternal, ever- 
blessed God, before whom angels bow and devils tremble, and 
in whose sight all the nations of the earth are less than nothing 
and vanity! — wilt thou graciously condescend, in thy sovereign 
and infinite goodness, to look down from thy throne of glory on 
me, the most unworthy of thy creatures, a poor, weak, sinful, 
vile, and polluted wretch, to behold me with mercy and compas- 
sion, and permit me, lying prostrate in the dust before thee, to 
address thee as my God, my Father, my Creator, my Benefac- 
tor, my Friend and Redeemer ! 

'' O Lord, I would come with a heart broken and contrite for 
sin, acknowledging myself unworthy of the least of air thy 
mercies, and deserving nothing at thine hand but everlasting 
banishment from thee and happiness. Encouraged by thine 
own gracious promises, I would come, and with humble confi- 
dence, take hold on the hope set before me, even thine everlast- 
ing covenant, which is ordered in all things and sure. But, O 
God, what am I, that 1 should be called thy son, that I should 
call thee my Father, or that thou shouldst enter into covenant 
with me ? I blush, and am ashamed even to hft up my face 
unto thee, O my Father ; for I have sinned against thee, and 
am exceeding vile ; vile beyond what language can describe or 
thought conceive. My iniquities are gone over my head ; they 
are increased even to the heavens ; they are infinite in number, 



96 MEMOIROF 

in degree and aggravation, and can be equalled only by thy 
mercies, which have been new every moment. Thou, O God, 
hast given me life, and dost still preserve me in existence. Thou 
hast given me faculties which render me capable of knowing, 
serving, loving, worshipping and enjoying thee. Thou hast 
placed me in this Christian land, and given me the knowledge 
of thee, myself, and my duty, while thousands of my fellow 
creatures are left in darkness. Thou hast placed me in that sit- 
uation in life which is most favorable to virtue, contentment, 
and happiness, and hast given me parents tender and affection- 
ate, who early devoted me to thee, and taught me to lisp thy 
name, and to know thy precepts. Through their means thou 
hast given me opportunities of improving those faculties I have 
received from thee, and thus rendering myself more fit to serve 
thee. Biit above all, O my God, thou hast given me an interest 
in thy Son, and in all the blessings he has purchased. Thou 
hast given me the Spirit of adoption, whereby I am enabled to 
cry, Abba, Father. Thou hast given me thy precious grace in 
this world as an earnest of glory in the next. Thou hast also 
loaded me with daily and hourly mercies, more than I can num- 
ber. Thou hast kept me with more than paternal care. Thou 
hast preserved me in sickness, protected me from dangers, shield- 
ed me while awake, watched over me in sleep, supported me 
in trials, strengthened me in weakness, succored me in tempta- 
tions, comforted me in afflictions, and defended me against 
mighty and numberless enemies. Thou hast overwhelmed me 
with thy mercies ; my cup runneth over. Thy goodness and 
thy mercy have followed me all the days of my life. 

" Yet against all this goodness I have rebelled, have reward- 
ed thee evil for good ; thy mercies have only aggravated my 
guilt. O, my God, what have I done ! What madness, what 
obstinacy, what ingratitude has possessed me ! My sins have 
run parallel with thy mercies. I have struck and wounded the 
hand that made me, fed me, preserved me. I have wasted in 
sin and folly the life thou gavest me. I have perverted those 
faculties I received from thy goodness in dishonoring thee, and 
in disobeying thy commands. I was shapen in sin, and brought 
forth in iniquity. My understanding is darkened and alienated 
from the truth ; my will is stubbom and perverse ; my affec- 
tions are corrupted and depraved ; and every imagination of the 



EDWARDPAYSON. 9? 

thoughts of my heart has been evil, only and continually evil. 
My carnal mind has been enmity against thee, and has not been 
in subjection to thy righteous and holy law. From this corrupt 
and bitter fountain have proceeded innumerable bitter, polluting 
streams. Though I was early taught thy will, I neglected to 
perform it. I have broken all thy commands, times without 
number. My words, thoughts, and actions, have been sinful. 
I have gone astray from my youth up. 

''And even after thou didst take pity upon me, when I wa.^ 
cast out, polluted, to perish in my blood — after thou didst re- 
ceive me, a poor, wretched prodigal, and didst cause thy 
wondrous goodness and mercy to pass before me, I have still 
continued to weary thee with my sins, and cause thee to serve 
with mine iniquities. I have broken that solemn covenant by 
which I bound myself to be thine. I have indulged an evil 
heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God, and have 
in all things dealt very treacherously. How often have I mocked 
thee with solemn words on a thoughtless tongue ! How have 
1 neglected thy word, profaned thine ordinances, broken thy 
law, and resisted thy grace ! How little of a filial temper have 
I felt to thee, my Father ! How little gratitude to thee, 
blessed Saviour ! How often have I grieved thee, O Hoi}?- 
Spirit, by whom I am sealed to the day of redemption ! When 
thou liftest upon me the light of thy countenance, I grow proud, 
carnal, and secure; and when thou leavest me in darkness, 
when my own foolishness perverteth my way, then my proud 
heart fretteth against thee, the Lord. All my duties are pollu- 
ted with innumerable sins, and are as a leprous garment before 
thee. And, after all thou hast done for me, I am still encom- 
passed about with innumerable evils. Pride, unbelief, selfish- 
ness, lust, anger, hatred, malice, revenge, bitterness, slothfulness, 
vanity, love of the world, ignorance, formality, hypocrisy, and 
with all these, self-conceit, are still the inhabitants, if not the 
lords, of my heart. And, as thou, O Lord, knowest, these are 
not the ten thousandth part of my sins and iniquities ; so that I 
am the chief of sinners, and least of all saints. * * * * 

" O wretched man that I am ! Who shall deliver me from 
this body of death? Vain, O Lord, thou knowest, are my 
endeavors, and vain is the help of man. I have ruined myself, 
and in thee alone, and in thy mercy, is my hope. 

VOL. I. 13 



98 M E M O I R F 

" To this mercy, against which I have so often sinned, would 
I flee for refuge, and, laying my hand on my mouth, and my 
mouth in the dust, cry. Unclean ! unclean ! True, Lord, I 
have sinned ; but with thee there is mercy, with thee there is 
plenteous redemption. Thou, thou, art he, who blottest out 
our iniquities for thine own sake, and wilt not remember our 
sins against us. The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, 
and to this would I flee for refuge. In him do I put my trust ; 

let me not be ashamed. Let me plead before thee the merits 
of thy Son, and put thee in mind of thy gracious promises, that 

1 may be justified. In his name, and as an unworthy member 
of his mystical body, would I come, and renew before thee that 
covenant which I have broken, and bind myself to be thine for- 
ever. And do thou, for his sake, O God, assist me ; for in thee 
is my strength. 

" Relying on this strength for support, and confessing myself 
guilty of all these and innumerable other oflfences, and that I 
deserve, in justice, nothing but the lowest hell, and renouncing 
the destructive ways of sin, — I do with my whole heart and 
soul, in a most serious, solemn, and deliberate manner, choose 
and take the Lord Jehovah to be my God and Father, cheer- 
fully and joyfully renewing all my past engagements ; and, in 
humble dependence on his grace, I engage to fear him, and 
cleave to him in love. And I do, most freely, give up myself, 
ray interests, for time and for eternity, my soul and body, my 
friends and possessions, and all that I have, to his wise, just, 
and sovereign disposal. Especially do I devote myself to him 
in the service of the ministry, beseeching him to place me in 
that situation in which I shall most glorify him. And wilt thou, 
O most gracious and condescending God, accept this oflfering of 
thy creature, who can give thee nothing but what he has first 
received. 

" With equal joy and readiness, and in the same serious and 
solemn manner, do I choose and embrace the Lord Jesus 
Christ to be my only Saviour. I take him in all his ofiices — as 
my Priest, to make atonement for all my offences — as my 
Prophet, to guide, teach, enlighten and instruct me — as my 
King, to rule in and reign over me. I take him as the great 
Head of influences, from whom alone I can receive all needed 
supplies of grace and assistance. 



E D W A R D P A Y S O N . 99 

<^ I do also take the Holy Spirit of all grace and consolation 
to be my Sanctifier, and promise not to grieve him, or to slight 
liis warnings. 

'' And, O my God, what shall I more say 7 what can I ask, 
since I am thine, and thou art mine ; mine, for time ; mine, 
for eternity? O my God, I want nothing but to be wholly 
thine. I would plead thy promise for a new heart and a right 
spirit. O Avrite this covenant on my heart, and put thy fear 
there, that I may not depart from tliee. May I be made an 
able, faithful, and successful minister of|the -New Testament. 
May the life and concerns, which I have now devoted to thee, 
be employed in thy service ; and may I, at length, be brought 
to the full enjoyment of thee hi glory, through infinite riches of 
redeeming love. 

^'As a testimony of my sincere and hearty consent to this 
covenant, of my hope and desire to receive the blessings of it, 
and as a swift witness against me if I depart from it ; I do now, 
before God and the holy angels, subscribe with my hand unto 
the Lord. Edward Payson. 

'' And may this covenant be ratified in heaven. And do thou 
remember, O my soul, that the vows of God are upon thee. 

" Having drawn up the above covenant, I spread it before 
die Lord ; and after confession of sins, and seeking pardon 
through the blood of Christ, I did solemnly accept it before 
him, as my free act and deed; and embraced Christ in it, as 
the only ground of my hope. I then pleaded for all covenant- 
ed blessings, and was favored with great fervency and enlarge- 
ment in prayer. An indisposition, which attended me through 
the day, rendered it less profitable than usual ; yet I have 
abundant reason to bless God for the measure of assistance I 
received. I felt the most longing, intense, and insatiable desires 
after holiness, and to be employed in promoting the divine 
glory. The world, with its applause, seemed nothing in com- 
parison with the approbation of God. Existence seemed worth, 
possessing only as it could be employed in praising him." 

Before the reader sits in judgment on the transaction now 
recorded, and especially on the manner in which it was con- 
ducted ; before he censures the vows, by which the covenanter 



100 MEMOIR or 

bound his soul, as too strong, the surrender as too complete and 
exclusive, or the terms in which it is done as extravagant, — let 
him inquire of his own heart, whether he has duly considered 
the claims of the great Jehovah, and treated these claims as a 
real servant of God, a true disciple of Christ. Even under his 
" easy yoke," the terms of the relation are. " Except ye forsake 
all, ye cannot be my disciples." And if " no man can serve 
two masters," we have no alternative, but to give up ourselves 
to God without reserve, or be disowned by him. However 
solemn the act, that can be neither unreasonable nor improper, 
which our Father in hfeaven requires. When we enter upon an 
enumeration of all that is comprised in dedicating one's self to 
God, we may well be filled with awe, and tremblingly alive to 
the danger of failing to perform our vows ; but to withhold the 
offering, savors more of unbelief, of a selfish and rebellious 
heart, than of a wise caution, or a filial temper. 

There is a class of persons, to whom the confessions in the 
above instrument will appear revolting, and by whom they will 
be stigmatized as religious affectation. He speaks of his sins 
as " infinite in number, degree and aggravation." The Chris- 
tian, Avhose " sins have been set in order before him," sees no 
hyperbole in such language ; and if it should meet the eyes of 
others, they are referred for an explanation, so far as it can be 
appreciated without Christian experience, to the sermon num- 
bered seven of his published discourses. Even " the natural 
man " may there " discern " enough to acquit the author of in- 
consistency ; and it is no more than an act of common justice 
to allow him to be his own expositor. 

In this and other places, he descends to specifications of sins 
in terms which may be thought applicable to none but a mon- 
ster of wickedness ; and yet they are the judgment passed on 
himself by a man always and universally respected for the 
correctness and purity of his morals. His " pride " never look- 
ed with disdain upon the meanest fellow-creature ; his " malice" 
and "revenge" never inflicted actual injury; and of any out- 
breakings of the baser and more degrading passions, he stands 
unindicted by all except himself Nor were these humiliating 
confessions, this extraordinary self-abasement, made to attract 
notice, and give himself importance in the eyes of others — one 
of the very worst and most odious forms in which pride oper- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 101 

ates — for to them no mortal was ever privy. They were not 
known to a fellow-creature, till since he dropped the clods of 
mortality. They describe what he appeared to himself to be 
in the immediate presence of the perfectly holy and heart 
searching God. Still, many will repeat the question — If he 
alludes to no crimes, with which every man might not with 
equal propriety charge himself, whence the justice or truth of 
the charges 1 Here again he shall be his own interpreter. Let 
those who are oppressed with this difficulty carefully read his 
sermon, entitled, " Sins estimated by the light of Heaven." and 
they will find a full and satisfactory solution. This, and the 
sermon just alluded to, will furnish a key to the true import of 
much of the language which he employs, in describing the 
darker and more distressing parts of his experience. 

The effects of his severe regimen and night vigils on his 
health had already begun to appear, and were somewhat aggra- 
vated by a bodily injury which he received about this time. 
The circumstances are said to have been these : He had accom- 
panied his father and another clergyman to an ordination. On 
their return, as he was feasting his mind with such meditations 
as the scenery and the occasion suggested, they out-rode him. 
His horse, being left principally to his own guidance, by sud- 
denly leaping a brook, brought his rider to the ground, whose 
right shoulder was dislocated by the shock. A partial faintness 
succeeded, from which he was recovered by bathing his temples 
with water from the stream. Attempting, in this disabled con- 
dition, to regain the saddle, by leaping from a neighboring fence, 
he was precipitated over the horse to the ground, and the bone 
was restored to its place by the fall. In after life, it was often 
displaced, and sometimes in circumstances not a little embar- 
rassing and distressing ; and for many months before his death, 
and even before he ceased to appear in the pulpit, that arm 
hung useless by his side. From this time, the state of his 
health is the subject of frequent allusion, as may be seen from 
his journal, parts of which, for several successive days, are 
subjoined, bringing down his history to the date of his license 
to preach the gospel : — 

" May 2. Was exceedingly weak through the day, both in 
body and mind, and was enabled to do little or nothing. Could 
only wish and sigh. 



102 MEMOIROF 

*' May 3. Sacrament. Had considerable flow of affections, 
but seemed to want clearness and spirituality. In the after- 
noon, was more dead and trifling. So far as I can judge from, 
my feelings, have got little good by this opportunity. Felt 
deeply oppressed with guilt after meeting, but could not mourn 
over my sin, as I would fain have done, nor could I obtain any 
sense of divine love. But after a short time, my compassionate 
Saviour was pleased to melt my soul with a look of love, and I 
felt sweetly humbled and contrite for sin. Although I had care- 
lessly let down my watch, yet in the evening he was pleased to 
return, and give me the sweetest humbling season I ever en- 
joyed. I never felt so vile, so insignificant, so like nothing, so 
emptied of self. And when I was thus empty, he was pleased 
to fill me with himself; so that I was burnt up* with most 
intense love, and pantings after holiness. Never before had I 
such faith and fervency in prayer. I was as happy as nature 
could sustain, and could only say — Blessed Jesus ! this is thy 
Avork. See my happiness. It proceeds from thee ! This is the 
fruit of thy travail of soul. Renewed my covenant, and gave 
up my whole soul, with all its powers, to God as my Father, 
Christ as my Sa^dour, and the Holy Spirit as my Sanctifier. 
Had another sweet season in prayer ; but was assaulted by 
spiritual pride. I see frowns are necessary for me. 

" May 4. Was less favored this morning than last evening ; 
but had some assistance. Was aided in writing, but greatly op- 
pressed with pride and vanity, which made their attacks upon 
me in inexpressible shapes, while I could do nothing. 

'' May 5. Spent this day in the woods, in fasting and prayer, 
with a view to obtain mortification of my abominable pride and 
selfishness. Was favored with much fervency and enlargement 
the former part of the day, but was afterward much deserted ; 
seemed to make no advances in holiness ; to be of no advantage 
to the world, and unfit to live. 

* This expression may at first glance sti-ike the reader as extravagant ; and 
yet, by consulting John ii. 17, he will find an almost exact parallel — The zeal 
of thine house hath eaten mc up. So inwrought into Mr. Payson's mental 
habits were the Scriptures of truth, that he thought, breathed, and spoke, in 
their manner. Those, however, will, or ought to be, the last to complain, 
who can resolve all the characteristic expressions and pecuhar docti'ines of 
the Bible mto " strong eastern figures." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 103 

'* May 6. Had some freedom in prayer. Felt very feeble, 
and unlit for study ; but, praying that Christ's strength might 
be made perfect in my weakness, I was helped to write more 
than usual. 

" May 7. Out of order both in body and mind. Did little in 
my study, and had little freedom in prayer. 

"May 8. Had some life and fervency this morning; but 
was exercised with wandering thoughts. Could do little all day. 

" May 9. Was much perplexed with some business with 
* * ^ *, so that I could neither read nor pray, any more 
than I could remove a mountain. This was made useful to me. 
I saw by it the weakness of my graces, and learned to judge 
more favorably of those Christians who are exposed to the 
temptations of the world. It showed me also my need of divine 
help more clearly than ever. Were I exposed to the same 
temptations, I should lose all sense of divine things without 
greater supports than I ever had. 

'' May 10. Was very unwell, and could neither eat, read, nor 
pray. Was excessively melancholy. 

" May 11. Was still more oppressed with melancholy, and felt 
even more miserable. * * * ^ * =^ =^ Was ashamed 
of my selfishness and ingratitude in despising the blessings God 
had given me. Remained very wretched, and unable to do any 
thing. In the evening, had some relief 

" May 12. Was, if possible, still more gloomy and depressed 
than yesterday. Seemed unfit to preach, and even to do any 
thing. Could only wander about from place to place, seek- 
ing rest, and finding none. In the evening, a person arrived 
from Marlborough, inviting me to come and preach four 
Sabbaths. After putting up a short but sincere petition, that 
I might not be left to my own guidance, and asking the advice 
of my father, I promised to go. Retired, and cast myself upon 
the Lord for support, with a deep sense of my own utter 
insufficiency. 

" May 13. Having set apart this day for fasting and prayer, 
with reference to entering on the work of the ministry, I sought 
the divine presence and blessing, in which I was much assisted. 
Renewed covenant with God, and gave myself up to him for 
the work of the ministry. Was helped to plead with far more 
earnestness than ever before, and, indeed, with as much as my 



104 MEMOIR OF 

nature could support, or was capable of, and this repeatedly 
during the day. 

'^ May 14. Was very unwell, and apprehensive of a nervous 
fever. Could not read the most amusing books without weari- 
ness and distraction ; and my body was so weak, that I could 
exercise but very little. Yet, by divine goodness, was preserved 
in a quiet, submissive frame. 

" May 15. Was better, and had some sweetness in secret de- 
votion. Went to see an old man who has been converted in his 
old age. Found him full of affection, and possessing remarka- 
bly clear views of God and divine thmgs, though in other 
respects weak and illiterate. Was somewhat refreshed with his 
conversation. — P. M. Forced to make a visit, but helped to 
introduce religious conversation. 

" May 16. Felt very lifeless in the morning ; but in secret 
prayer, it pleased God to enliven me. In the evening, was favored 
with equal, or greater degrees of fervency. My soul was sud- 
denly humbled and broken for sin. I seemed to be much the 
least of all saints ; and my very soul panted for God and hoU- 
ness, as the hunted hart for the water-brook. Blessed be God 
for this day. 

" May 17. Sabbath, A. M. Yery dull and lifeless ; but in 
secret prayer, the cloud was removed, and I found unspeakable 
delight in drawing near to God, and casting myself upon him. 
Christ appeared inconceivably precious, and I longed, with most 
intense desire, to devote myself to him, and to be like him. I 
could not but rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory, 
to think that God in Christ was, and would be, infinitely and 
unchangeably glorious and happy. In Christ I beheld such 
fulness and sufficiency, that all my late tormenting fears 
respecting being qualified for the ministry, and assisted in it, 
vanished. In the evening, was overwhelmed with a view of 
my remaining corruptions, and especially of my pride ; so that 
I was in a perfect agony, and could scarcely support it. I was 
just ready to despair, and give up all ftiture striving as vain ; 
but I fled to Christ, and poured out all my sorrows into his 
bosom, and he graciously pitied me, and strengthened me with 
might in my soul. I found unspeakable relief in tolling him all 
my sorrows and difficulties. O, he is wonderfully, inconceiva- 
bly gracious ! 



i 



EDWARD PAYSON. 105 

" May is. Had very little freedom or fervency. Was per- 
plexed with the scene before me, and could effect but little. 

''May 19. Went with my father to the Association, for the 
purpose of receiving their approbation to preach the gospel. 
Was exceedingly fatigued. 

" May 20. Was examined and approbated. Was so weak 
that I could scarcely stand : but was helped in some measure." 

VOL. I. 14 



CHAPTER VI. 



His first efforts as a preacher. His religious character further developed. 

Having been regularly introduced and recommended to the 
churches as a preacher, Mr. Payson proceeded, the next day, 
to Marlborough, to fulfil his engagement with the people of 
that place. Change of situation, however, did not interrupt 
his communion with God. On the way, his mind was engrossed 
with divine contemplations, and with the duties and responsi- 
bilities of that new relation in which he now stood to the church 
and the world. During the time that intervened between this 
and the Sabbath, he was not without misgivings ; as he com- 
plains of being "almost discouraged and overwhelmed, in view 
of his unfitness for the ministry ;" and once, of even " wishing 
himself any thing rather than a minister." He " could hardly 
conceive it possible, that one so inconceivably vile should be 
a child of God ; but was nevertheless helped to cast his bur- 
den on the Almighty, and to agonize in prayer to be delivered 
from this body of death." The Saturday next preceding his 
first appearance in the pulpit, he had '^ resolved to spend in 
fasting and prayer ;" but when the day arrived, his "health 
would not permit." The day on which a man first stands forth as 
the ambassador of God to his fellow men, is an important era in 
his life ; but it had been anticipated with so much concern by 
Mr. Payson, that it seems to have been distinguished by no ex- 
traordinary strength of feelings. His own account of them is 
thus expressed : — 

^'' May 24. Sabbath. Was favored with considerable ferven- 
cy, life, and sense of dependence, this morning. Endeavored to 



MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 107 

cast myself wholly on the Lord for support. Felt thankful it 
was rainy. There were very few people at meeting; and I just 
got through without stopping. Spoke too fast and too low. 
Was a good deal depressed after meeting. In the afternoon, did 
a little better, but still bad enough. Was very much fatigued, 
and almost in a fever ; but enjoyed some comfort after meet- 
ing." 

His public engagements, important as he felt them to be, did 
not divert his attention from his own heart. On the contrary, 
personal religion continued to be a primary concern. Of this, 
as well as of the varied nature of his spiritual exercises, there 
is an accumulation of evidence : — 

" May 28. Enjoyed a very unusual degree of sweetness and 
fervor this morning. O, how precious did Christ appear to my 
soul ! How I longed to be a pure flame of fire in his service, 
to be all zeal, and love, and fervor ! With what gratitude did 
I look to him, saying. Blessed Saviour, behold how happy lam! 
and to thee all my happiness is owing. But for thee, I should 
now have been lifting up my eyes, being in torments. O, what 
shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits ! In the even- 
ing, in secret prayer, my soul was filled with unutterable long- 
ings and insatiable thirstings after God in Christ. I earnestly 
desired that all mankind might be as happy as I was ; that they 
should all see what a glorious, amiable being God is, that they 
might love and praise him. Retired to rest with a clear, sweet, 
realizing apprehension of my Saviour's presence, and dropped 
to sleep in this frame. 

'' May 29. Enjoyed much of the same spiritual sweetness 
which I felt last evening ; but was much exercised on account 
of pride, or rather, love of applause, which was excited by 
some approbation which, I lately heard, was bestowed on my 
preaching. Strove with all my might to be delivered from this 
hateful temper, and cried for some time to my Supporter and 
Strength ever to grant me his grace to help. Recalled to mind 
that I had nothing which I had not received; that I had most 
wickedly and shamefully wasted, and neglected to improve my 
talents ; that applause was commonly ill bestowed ; and that 
the praise of men was of no worth compared with the approba- 



108 MEMOIR OF 

tion of God. By the divine blessing on these and other similar 
considerations, I was helped to overcome it. In the evening, 
was much assisted in prayer. Had a greater spirit of wrestling 
for the conversion of sinners than I ever had before." 

He is often " discouraged by the little which he accomplishes 
and the selfish motives with which that little is defiled." 
He is assailed by " strong temptations, which drive him to his 
knees for assistance ;" and by " frequent recurrence of the 
same temptation," which costs him long and severe '* struggles, 
before he is favored with complete victory." This is followed 
by '' increased confidence in God, as able to supply all his 
need, and at the same time, with a more humbling sense of his 
unfitness for the ministry." And even when he is in a " lively 
frame" during several successive days, he is still "astonished 
at his slow progress in religion." Again, "pride and unbelief 
begin to work, and render him miserable," and for defence 
against them he resorts " to prayer, pleading various arguments 
for the space of an hour, before he is able to repress pride and 
repining thoughts." Nor is this the extremity of his conflict : 
he has such " a dreadful view of his heart, that he could 
scarcely support the sight of himself;" while this, " instead of 
humbling, only distressed him, so that he is at last obliged to 
desist, without, as he can perceive, any answer at all." The 
next day, he can cry, "Abba, Father !" with all the confidence 
of filial love : — 

" June 6. Had many sweet seasons of prayer during the 
day, and was assisted in pleading for the presence of the Divine 
Spirit to-morrow. 

" June 8. Had great earnestness in secret prayer. Longed 
to be wholly devoted to God. Thought if I could, from this 
time, do every thing for his glory, I would willingly resign every 
worldly comfort, and be the most despised object on the face of 
the earth. Went to a funeral, and was assisted in speaking to 
the mourners, and in prayer. 

" June 9. Renewed covenant, and took God for my God, 
and gave myself up to him in sincerity, and with more joy than 
I ever did before. In the afternoon was favored with another 
most sweet and refreshing season in secret prayer. Have sel- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 109 

donij if ever, felt more fervency, more hatred of sin, and more 
longing desires after holiness. 

'^ June 10. The family being mostly absent to-day, I resolved 
to spend it in fasting and prayer, for a supply of ministerial 
gifts and Christian graces ; especially that I might be made an 
able, faithful, and successful minister of the New Testament. 
Was assisted, both last night and this morning, in seeking the 
divine presence and blessing. God graciously heard and an- 
swered me. I was favored with great and unusual fervency 
and perseverance in prayer, was enabled to confess and mourn 
over my sins, and to mourn because I could not mourn more, 
and was assisted in renewing covenant with God, and in giving 
myself up to be his forever. Was entirely exhausted, and worn 
out in body and mind, before night, by the strong and unutter- 
able desires I felt after personal holiness and the success of 
Christ's kingdom. On the whole, it has been a very profitable 
day to my squl, as by divine goodness, most, if not all, my fast 
days have been." 

Four days after this, he experienced a most melancholy re- 
verse, viewing himself as the "most vile, loathsome, worthless, 
wretch in existence ; could only throw himself prostrate and 
utter the cry of the publican — ' God, be merciful to me a sin- 
ner.' " The cause of this distress is unintentionally indicated. 
He was " sick in body and mind." But, 

" As poison oft the force of poison quells," 

so the far more wretched condition, and still more melancholy 
prospects, of a fellow-creature, caused him to forget his own 
misery : — 

" Was called to see a sick man supposed to be dying ; he was 
a professor, aged eighty-seven. Found him something alarmed, 
but he gave no satisfactory evidence of a change. Stated to 
him his danger and the remedy, but I fear, to little purpose. 
Was much assisted in preaching. My strength continued and 
even increased, though quite exhausted at the close. Went to 
see the sick man again. Found him better in body, but worse 
in mind. 



110 MEMOIR OF 

" June 16. Had no heart to confess my sins ; could find no 
words which would do any thing towards it. Saw no hope — 
scarcely any possibility of being either happy or useful. Tried 
all day to study, but could neither write nor read, and was 
completely discouraged. It seemed as if I must give up preach- 
ing. 

" June 17. Had some life this morning, but was harassed 
with wandering thoughts. Seemed to myself more vile than 
any other creature existing. Expected an occasion for a fune- 
ral sermon, yet could effect nothing. Seldom, if ever, spent a 
more painful day. Was ready to say, What profit shall we 
have, if we pray unto him ; for I prayed once and again, but 
found no relief. In the evening, felt a little belter, but then was 
ready to sink, and seemed fit for nothing but to be fuel for God's 
wrath. 

"June 18. Suffered more of hell to-day than ever I did in 
my life. O such torment ! I wanted but little of being dis- 
tracted. I could neither read, nor write, nor pray, nor sit still. 

" June 19. Rose in the same state of mind in which I lay 
down. Rode out, and felt some better, so that I found some 
liberty to pray. — P. M. Went with fear and trembling to at- 
tend a funeral. Was assisted in speaking to the mourners : as 
the multitude was very great, I was requested to pray out of 
doors ; and though the situation was new. and I was unwell, I 
was carried through. Felt some relief from my load of melan- 
choly, and was enabled to write. 

" June 20. Set apart this day for fasting and prayer. Was 
unusually assisted in pleading for increase in holiness. Felt 
such intense longings and thirstings after more love to God and 
man, more devotedness to God's will, more zeal for his glory, 
that my body was almost overcome. Towards night, was ena- 
bled to plead with greater fervency than ever, so that I trust 
this will prove the most profitable day I have ever had. In the 
evening, was greatly assisted in prayer, so that I could scarcely 
retire to rest. 

" June 21. Went to meeting with raised expectations ; but it 
pleased God to leave me more destitute than usual, though I was 
carried through. When I first came out of the pulpit, I was 
not in a very good frame ; but before I got half way home, was 
easy, satisfied, and even pleased to be despised, so that God's 



EDWARD PAYSON. Ill 

will might be done. Was much more assisted in the afternoon. 
Felt thankful. 

" June 22. Very unusual degrees of fervor this morning. 
Very unwell all day, and did little in my study. In the eve- 
ning, was overwhelmed with a sense of my own unworthiness. 
O how wretchedly my life passes away ! 

" June 23. As soon as I awoke this morning, my heart was 
filled with most intense love to God and Christ, so that it was 
even ready to break for the longing desires it had to go forth af- 
ter God. I was greatly assisted in praying that 1 might be made 
an instrument of promoting the divine glory in the world. 

*' June 25. Thinking it would be more convenient to keep my 
weekly fast on this day, sought the divine presence and bless- 
ing. Felt some warm affections towards my Saviour at first, 
but afterwards could neither realize my wants, nor pray to have 
them removed. Continued in this frame till towards night, 
and was then favored Avith a deep sense of my utter vileness. 
Was also enabled to plead, even with agony of soul, to be freed 
from the power of a selfish nature. Could not think of being 
any longer subject to it. 

''June 26. Much favored. Felt insatiable desires after holi- 
ness, and that I might spend every moment of future life to the 
divme glory. 

'MuNE 29. "Faint, yet pursuing," is a good motto for me. 
Could do nothing in the morning, but in the afternoon gave up 
all hopes of ever doing any thing. Iniquities seemed to prevail 
against me, and I was ready to despair ; but, throwing my- 
self on the Lord Jesus for help, I received strength. In 
the evening, was favored with freedom. Felt that I am much 
more habitually affected by religious subjects than I have been 
formerly; nor are my affections less vehement, or less easily 
excited. 

"June 30. Was ready to sink and be discouraged in view 
of my exceeding sinfulness and little progress in religion. 

'' July 1. Much SAveetness in prayer this morning. Felt 
broken and contrite for sin. — P. M. Was greatly sunk and 
depressed. Seemed to be a poor, miserable, useless wretch. 
Went and poured forth my sorrows at the feet of my com- 
passionate Saviour, and found relief O how gracious is our 
God ! 



112 MEMOIR OF 

''July 5. Sabbath. Had some devout feelings and desiro 
after assistance this morning, but could not get hold of any- 
thing in a very realizing manner. Was very much deserted in 
prayer and sermon, and felt much distressed ; but in the after- 
noon, was favored with great enlargement, both in prayer and 
and sermon. Felt a strong love for souls, and for the Lord 
Jesus. Was weak and exhausted; but, after resting awhile, 
had a most sweet, refreshing, strengthening season in prayer. 
Never before felt so much of the spirit of the gospel. Felt like 
a pure flame of love towards God and man. Self seemed to be 
almost swallowed up. Felt willing to go any where, or be any 
thing, by which God could be glorified, and sinners saved. 
Felt my hopes of being useful in the world strengthened. O 
how lovely, how kind, how condescendingly gracious, did my 
God appear ! Gave myself up to him without reserve, and 
took him for my only portion. Blessed be his name for this 
season. 

'' July 6. Rode out this morning, and found much sweetness 
in continually lifting up my heart to God in fervent ejaculations. 
In the evening, had such a view of the difficulties in my way, 
and of my exceeding sinfulness, that I was ready to sink ; but 
my blessed Saviour put forth his hand and caught me. 

'^ July 7. Was harassed with wandering, gloomy, and dis- 
tressing imaginations. Could not fix upon a text, and was 
much perplexed what to do. Was overwhelmed with melan- 
choly. — P. M. Went to a funeral, and was favored with some 
assistance. Went to make a visit ; found good Christian peo- 
ple, a most kind reception, and profitable conversation." 

Few enjoyments were more exquisitely satisfying to Mr. 
Payson, than those which he derived from religious intercourse. 
In a company of fellow-Christians, whose feelings would rise 
responsive to his own, when the themes of a Saviour's love, 
and of human obligation and privilege, were agitated, his soul 
seemed to revel in spiritual dehghts ; and he was gifted by 
nature and grace with the prerogative of infusing a rich portion 
of his own emotions into the rest of the favored circle. These 
interviews are remembered, by many a surviving pilgrim, as 
among the liveliest emblems of that " better country," which 
he has ceased to anticipate, by actual fruition. It is not with- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 113 

out a degree of shrinking, that we follow him in his sudden 
transition from scenes like these into the very depths of distress ; 
or awaking the fotloAving morning, " weak, dejected, melancholy, 
regarding himself as useless in the world, horn only to sin, and 
abuse the mercies of his Saviour and God, to disgrace the religion 
which he preached, and bring dishonor on the blessed name by 
which he was called" — in a word, "oppressed with a load of 
guili, so that he did not dare to retire to his chamber till driven 
thither, and even there, while prostrate in the dust, could hardly 
refrain, in the bitterness of his soul, from praying to be released 
from the body ! " In the debilitated state of his nervous system, 
and in his impaired health, the reader will see a physical cause 
for this depression. He had actually no more reason to doubt of 
his safety, than he had in his most joyful frames. On this 
point, his own judgment seems to have been sufficiently discern- 
ing, even when its decisions could not summon to his aid that 
relief for which he sighed ; for in immediate connection with 
these heart-rending lamentations, he says, "Other griefs leave 
the mind strength to grapple with them; but this oppressive 
melancholy cuts the very sinews of the soul, so that it lies pros- 
trate, and cannot exert itself to throw off the load." 

The next day after penning this graphic and unequalled 
description of his real malady, he is seen in the "chariot of 
Amminadib," his mind moving with an angel's speed, and per- 
forming the labor of many days in one: — "Was favored with 
fervency and freedom in prayer. Was greatly assisted in writ- 
ing, through the day, and wrote nearly two sermons. Felt in 
a composed, thankful frame, all day, and felt the most ardent 
love for the Lord Jesus, and for all mankind." 

In the mitigated forms of melancholy there is a soul-subduing 
power, which few are able to resist. It then loses its repulsive 
character, and the soul of the witness is attracted and melted 
into sympathy. A mind conscious of its misery, yet retaining 
its balance, and surveying its own desolations with unrepining 
submission, presents a spectacle of moral sublimity, not sur- 
passed by any thing which falls under human observation. 
This constitutes one of the charms of our Saviour's character, 
and much of the value of his example. In this attitude, Mr. 
Payson may be seen in some of the following extracts, and very 
often in the course of his life. In the second, there is the ex- 
pression of a "wish," which if rigidly interpreted, might be 
VOL. I. 1 n 



114 MEMOIR OF 

understood as indicating a criminal dissatisfaction with life. 
But it is an involuntary wish, not incompatible with innocence 
of mind; for it has its counterpart in the spotless Sufferer of the 
garden of Gethsemane : — 

" July 17. Find that the two principal things, in which I fail 
externally, are, the due improvement of time, and the govern- 
ment of my tongue. I daily lose many moments — I might 
almost say hours — in giving way too much to my feelings of 
gloom and discouragement; and I say many things which at 
l>est are unprofitable. 

" July 18. Almost distracted; but was kept most of the time 
from repining or murmuring, only sometimes I could not help 
wishing that 1 were extinct ; but this was wrung from me by 
the pressure of anguish, for my soul was exceeding sorrowful. 

" July 19. Sabbath. Rose very early, worn out in body and 
mind ; but felt sweetly resigned to the divine will, and was 
willing to be assisted as much, and as little, as God should see 
fit. Had some assistance ; but after meeting was excessively 
weak and depressed ; thought I would give the world if I never 
had preached, and it seemed as if I never should go into the 
pulpit again. 

"July 20. Overwhelmed, sunk, discouraged with a sense of 
sin. All efforts seemed to be in vain. Discoveries of my vile- 
ness, instead of humbling me, as might be expected, only excited 
discouragement and unbelief; while the manifestations of God's 
love only make me proud and careless. My wretched soul 
cleaves to the dust ! 

" July 22. O, what a dreadful, what an inconceivable abyss 
of corruption is my heart ! What an amazing degree of pride 
and vanity, of selfishness and envy, does it contain ! 

" July 23. Was excited to feel fretful and peevish at two 
or three trifling circumstances ; but fled for refuge to the throne 
of grace, and, by praying for myself, for the persons with whom 
I was disposed to be offended, and especially by meditating on 
the meekness and gentleness of Christ, was enabled to preserve 
peace and tranquillity of mind. Was much assisted in prayer. 

" July 24. Was visited by a young student in divinity, and 
had some profitable conversation with him. Was never able to 
converse in a clearer manner upon religious subjects. 

" July 25. This being my birth day, I set it apart for solemn 



EDWARD PAYSON. 115 

fasting and prayer, with thanksgiving. After confessing and 
mourning over the sins of my past life, and contrasting them 
with God's mercies, and offering up praise and thanksgiving for 
his goodness, I solemnly renewed covenant with God, and, with 
my whole heart, so far as I could judge, gave myself, my 
friends, and all that I have, to be disposed of as he should see 
fit. I felt willing to live or die, as God pleased, and to go 
among the Indians, or to any part of the world, where I could 
be instrumental in promoting the glory of God, and the happi- 
ness of man. Felt unusually longing, insatiable, and intense 
desires after holiness of heart and life, and especially after hu- 
mility. Was never enabled to pray more fervently for spiritual 
blessings — could wrestle and persevere therein. Felt an im- 
pression that this is the last birth day I shall ever see." 

The next day was the Sabbath, and he was so far spent with 
its labors, that it was with difficulty he could reach his lodg- 
ings. The night was passed without rest ; and of his in- 
creased weakness in the morning " Satan was suffered to take 
advantage, and fill his mind with unutterable anguish." But 
he " found relief in prayer, and felt strengthened to go on with 
fresh vigor in his Christian course, exclaiming — O, how true it 
is, that, to those who have no might, he increaseth strength." 

" July 29. I yesterday read an author on the subject of hu- 
man depravity, and, being perplexed with some of his objec- 
tions, prayed to be guided to the truth in this doctrine. Was 
now convinced, beyond a doubt, that in me naturally dwelt no 
good thing. O, how vile, how loathsome did my heart appear ! 
I was ready to think I had never known any thing at all of my 
own character before, and that there were infinite depths in my 
nature, that I could not see. In the course of the day, was 
favored with still further discoveries of myself, of true holiness, 
and of Christ, so that I seemed never to have known any thing 
of true religion before, 

''Aug. 3. My blessed Saviour, compassionating my weak- 
ness, was pleased to make me strong in himself, and to favor me 
with a most refreshing season. Never felt so desirous to depart 



116 MEMOIR OF 

and be with Christ, and at the same time more wilUng to live * 
and undergo all hardships for his glory. Desired that my life 
might be spent in a close walk with God." 

His '• desire to become a missionary " revived about this time, 
but did not ripen into a fixed purpose, for the plain reason, that 
he could not determine that such was the will of God. He sub- 
mitted the decision of the question to his Master in heaven, 
praying, " that God would do with him as he pleased, in this 
respect." 

" Aug. 5. Was greatly perplexed and distressed, yet tried to 
keep myself in a quiet, waiting frame, but found great difii- 
culty in keeping out impatient, murmuring thoughts. Could 
not determine whether my being thus deserted was to punish 
me for my slothfulness and misimprovementof time, or only for 
the trial of my faith and patience. My soul remembered the 
bitterness and the gall which it had once before experienced on 
a similar occasion, and shuddered at the idea of a renewal." 

Extracts might be multiplied, exhibiting him as " sinking in 
deep waters, where the floods overflow him," and then again 
'' surprised with a sudden visit from his blessed Lord, full of 
sweetness to his soul ;" — his mind at one time so clogged in its 
operations by his burdens, that he '• tried in vain to write ;" at 
another, so buoyant, that, "though almost confined to his bed, 
he is enabled to write a whole sermon in a day." This con- 
trast is no where more strikingly marked than by the following 
entry, after sufiering Trom " melancholy, which overwhelmed 
him Hke a thousand mountains, so that his soul was crushed 
under it:" — 

" Aug. 15. Rose in a sweet, tranquil, thankful frame, blessing 
God for the storm of yesterday, and the calm to-day. O, how 
great is his wisdom, how great his goodness ! Had faith and 
freedom in prayer. Yesterday, I thought God himself could 
hardly carry me through. But to-day — O, how changed !" 

* "Nor love thy life, nor hate ; but what thou liv'st 
Live well ; how long or shoit, permit to heaven.'' 



EDWARD PAYSON. 117 

Before this, the reader may have expected toleam what influ- 
ence his secret devotions had on the services of the sanctuary, 
also the result of his public labors in regard to the people to 
whom he ministered. It is almost superfluous to add, that they 
were not without effect. Others " took knowledge of him, that 
he had been with Jesus." The solemnity and unction of his 
social prayers ; the earnestness and variety of argument with 
which he pleaded at the throne of grace ; his unyielding impor- 
tunity for the blessings which he sought, — had roused atten- 
tion, and drawn forth the confession, that '• the Spirit of the 
holy God was within him." " God must help him, or he could 
never pray so," — said an observing man, who had previously 
professed no regard for religion. Herein he doubtless expressed 
the generally-prevailing sentiment, as Mr. Payson mentions 
among his trials, " well-meant, but injudicious commendations," 
while he renders " all the glory to God, who did not suffer him 
to forget his own weakness." 

But besides the general impression produced by his preach- 
ing, he was instrumental of individual conversions. More than 
once he was allowed to record an event like the following — 
" Truly in faithfulness God afflicts me. Early this morning, a 
young man came to me under deep distress of mind, and gave 
pretty satisfactory evidence that he had experienced a real 
change. He said he had received great benefit from my preach- 
ing. This was a very seasonable cordial to my fainting spirits." 
Such events caused him to " retire to his chamber, overflowing 
with wonder and gratitude at God's unmerited goodness to sucli 
a miserable wretch." 

His faithful conversation was also blessed to the family with 
whom he resided ; and the last Sabbath on which, he officiated 
at Marlborough, it was his happiness to propound his host and 
hostess as candidates for admission into the church. Thus 
early did God honor his ministry, and give him an earnest of 
the power which was to attend the word dispensed by him. 

Enough has been developed to show the secret of Dr. Pay- 
son's greatness, and of his success. He laid hold on the divine 
strength. Prayer, by which the creature communes with God, 
and obtains grace to help in every time of need, was eminently 
the business of his life, and the medium through which he de- 
rived inexhaustible supplies. It was not the stated morning and 



lis MEMOIR OF 

evening incense alone, which he offered ; but that he had 
" much enlargement, and many sweet seasons of prayer during 
the day," is matter of frequent record, and probably of still 
more frequent experience. Almost incessantly was he conver- 
sant with spiritual and eternal things. His conversation was in 
heaven. He also valued and sought the intercessions of others. 
In a letter to his parents, probably the first he ever wrote after 
he commenced preaching, he says — " I beg you to pray for me 
most earnestly and importunately. I seem to be walking on a 
hair, and hardly dare go down to breakfast or dinner, lest I 
should say or do something which may disgrace the ministry, or 
hurt the cause of religion ; so that I shall never need your 
prayers more than now." The sensibility to danger, here so 
apparent, though it occasionally subjected him to temporary 
indecision and perplexity, was, next to the promised support of 
the Most High, his greatest security. 

It will also have been seen, that Mr. Payson was subject to 
great extremes of feeling — at one time, "caught up," Avith Paul, 
where he heard '' things unutterable ;" at another, sunk to the 
lowest point of depression, where existence was a " burden too 
heavy for him." Many have imagined his Christian career to 
have been one of uninterrupted joy and triumph, and such will, 
perhaps, regret any allusion to those seasons when "his soul 
was cast down in him,*" but to keep these out of sight, would 
be to conceal a class of affections, from Avhich his exercises, lan- 
guage and conduct received important modifications. Subse- 
quently to this time, there were, in his character, phenomena to 
be accounted for ; and the causes, which it is impossible wholly 
to suppress, may as well be fairly divulged as merely insinuated 
and left for suspicion to magnify. Scoffers and revilers will 
draw poison from the disclosure — and what will they not per- 
vert 7 — but others will improve it to a holier purpose ; for 

" With a soul that ever felt the sting 
Of sorrow, soitow is a sacred thing." 

There are minds so delicately strung, that they cannot escape 
its most distressing attacks. Friendship, philosophy, and even 
religion, as it exists in imperfect man, cannot oppose a complete 
barrier to its influence. With many, in fact, it is the principal 



EDWARD PAY SON. 119 

part of their religious discipline. The best of men have occa- 
sionally groaned under its pressure. It made Job " weary of 
his life;" and that pensive, tender-hearted prophet, who was 
sanctified from the womb, and to whom the subject of this 
Memoir bore no slight resemblance, complains — "When I 
would comfort myself against sorrow, my heart is faint in me !" 
Why should it be thought strange, then, that uninspired men 
are not exempted from this calamity 1 

" 'Tis not, as heads that never ache suppose, 

Forgery of fancy, and a dream of woes ; 

Man is a harp whose chords elude the sight, 

Each yielding harmony, disposed aright ; 

The screws reversed, (a task, which, if he please, 

God in a moment executes with ease,) 

Ten thousand thousand sti'ings at once go loose, 

Lost, till he tune them, all their power and use." 

" No wounds like those a wounded spu'it feels, 

No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals." 

And yet how barbarously is the state of mind, here described, 
treated ! 

" This, of all maladies that man infest 
Claims most compassion, and receives the least ; 
Job felt it when he groaned beneath the rod 
And the barbed arrows of a fi-owning God ; 
And such emollients as his friends could spare. 
Friends such as his for modern Jobs prepare. 
Blest, rather cm-st, with hearts that never feel. 
Kept snug in caskets of close-hammered steel. 
With mouths made only to grin wide and eat, 
And minds that deem derided pain a treat. 
With limbs of British oak, and nerves of wire, 
And wit, that puppet-prompters might inspire. 
Their sovereign nostrum is a clumsy joke 
On pangs enforced with God's severest stroke." 

Language, which is wrung from a man by the agony of feel- 
ing, will, nevertheless, be variously interpreted by difierent 
readers, as they shall sympathize or not with his doctrinal be- 
lief Had the expressions already quoted, and which, in the 
mouth of a cold calculator, would certainly indicate a disgust 



120 MEMOIR OF 

with life, escaped Mr. Payson at a later period, immediately . 
on some reverse in his prospects, by wh h his fame would be 
affected — they might have been regarded as the language of 
disappointed ambition, presenting a case analogous to that of 
the disobedient prophet, who, because God had averted from 
Nineveh the catastrophe which he had predicted, thought he 
'' did well to be angry, even unto death." But he had just en- 
tered on his profession, had matured no schemes of self-exalta- 
tion, was without a rival, and a mere sojourner, not knowing 
whither his next remove would be, or where his ultimate desti- 
nation would place him. His pretensions were as modest, and 
his expectations as humble, as those of any man in similar 
circumstances. And, so far from suffering the chagrin of dis- 
appouitment, his preaching was regarded with a degree of ap- 
probation which exceeded his highest hopes. In no case do 
these expressions indicate a deliberately formed and cherished 
wish ; on the contrary, they are the utterance of a momentary 
and involuntary feeling ; a feeling suddenly excited, and more 
suddenly rejected; a feeling, therefore, which might have left 
the mind wholly uncontaminated w;ith guilt. 

" Evil into the mind of God or man 

May come and go, so unapproved, and leave 

No spot or blame behind." 

In judging of this class of his exercises, it should not be for- 
gotten, that his health was already undermined ; his system had 
lost much of its elasticity, and encountered a shock, from the 
effects of which it never afterwards recovered. Besides, he 
had a constitutional predisposition to melancholy, which other 
branches of his family are said to have inherited to a still more 
painful degree. This caused him frequently to view every 
thing connected with his own personal security, prospects, and 
usefulness, through the medium of a distorting and aggravating 
gloom. But to make his faith accountable for his distresses, 
would be the highest offence to his now sainted spirit, and the 
grossest libel upon that reUgion which bore him above the im- 
measurably accumulated sufferings of his last days. His 
religion, instead of being the cause of his gloom, was his only 
refuge from its overwhelming effects. The precious doctrines 
of grace, according to his own views of them, alone kept him 



EDWARD PAYSON. 12-1 

from sinking. His distress, indeed, was often owing to inade- 
quate causes, and his "mind slow to receive the comfort" 
which God is ever ready to bestow ; but if, with his own views 
of the gospel, he was sometimes melancholy, with different 
views he would have gone distracted. 

These remarks are not intended as a defence, but as an im- 
partial exhibition of facts. We are not concerned to approve 
of every thing in Mr. Pay son's character. He was a man — a 
sinner ; and it is well for survivors that he had faults, lest, in 
looking at him, they should lose sight of his and their Saviour. 
To a man whom so many excellencies rendered lovely, and 
who was, in the best sense, the benefactor of thousands, they 
would be in danger of rendering a sort of idolatrous homage, 
if there were no features in his character to be contemplated 
with pain and regret. So far as the destruction of his health 
was brought on by his own imprudences, he is to be blamed; 
and is in a measure, responsible for the consequences. He did 
not foresee them, it is true, but thought himself an exception 
to a general law; still he should have hearkened to the paren- 
tal voice which warned him. He erred too — if one may say 
it without arrogance, whose pretensions to piety are as nothing 
compared with his — in looking too much to frames for the evi- 
dences of his piety. He was too solicitous for sensible enjoy- 
ment, and too much disturbed by its absence. Yet, however 
deep his sadness at these times, he had not a settled melancholy. 
With his susceptibility, he could not, probably, have survived a 
long period of spiritual desertion, and to this he was not doomed; 
but he was too impatiently eager for total exemption, and for 
this he was most severely chastised by the same kind hand 
which so plentifully rewarded his fidelity. 

There is, however, one aspect, in which all the hardships 
that he imposed on himself, — the ruin of his constitution by ab- 
stinence, night vigils, and extraordinary exertion, and even all 
his mental agonies, — may be viewed with a feeling of entire 
reconciliation. All these trying processes, to which he subjected 
his mind, may justly be regarded as a series of experiments on 
himself, designed by Providence for the- good of the church, 
indeed of the human race. To him, in the exercise of his fu- 
ture ministry, they were incalculably valuable. The knowledge 
acquired by this painful experience was not without vast ex- 

VOL. I. 16 



122 MEMOIR OF 

pense to himself; bat it constituted one of his most important 
qualifications for aiding numerous other souls through the laby- 
rinths of error and mental distress. In this way he was taught 
'' how to speak a Avord in season to him that is weary" — to be 
" a guide of the blind, a light to them that are in darkness, a 
teacher of babes." So familiar did he become with almost ev- 
ery possible case of conscience, every form of spiritual trial and 
delusion, to which either inquirers or established Christians are 
exposed, that he could instantly recognise their symptoms, and 
apply the needed antidote. 

In all his revolutions of feeling, varied exercises, and chang- 
ing frames, there is discoverable an unvarying simplicity of pur- 
pose. The destruction of sin, and the extension of the empire 
of holiness in himself and others, are the objects constantly 
before him. His eye was single and directed to the glory of 
God ; and he longed for the salvation of men, as the work in 
which the divine glory eminently appears. He complains fre- 
quently of his pride, vanity, and selfishness — qualities, doubt- 
less, eminently congenial wuth his unrenewed nature, but which 
were now evidently most unwelcome intruders, and which it 
was his constant grief that he could not wholly dislodge. Let 
those, who would convert his full confessions into a proof, ''that 
he was sinful above all men," be reminded, that, if they were 
to watch the motions of their own hearts with the same care, 
and judge them with the same unrelenting severity, they 
might find even greater abominations, than any of which he 
complains, holding hitherto undisturbed empire over their 
souls ; and not, as in him, annoying, yet conquered passions, 
which the gracious principle would in the end wholly eradicate. 

On the 18th of August, he took '' a very affectionate leave of 
the family by whom he had been so kindly entertained," and 
revisited home, where he spent three days ; and then " set out 
in a violent rain for Andover," Mass., where he had an engage- 
ment to preach, and " felt some consolation in reflecting that he 
was going on his Father's and Saviour's business." The sec- 
ond day, he arrived, "wet, wearied, and dejected." Of his per- 
formances on the following Sabbath, he says — "I had little 
assistance in preaching, and pleased neither the people nor my- 
self." He here expresses, not an opinion merely, but a fact. 
Popular as he deservedly was, his preaching was not regarded 



EDWARD PAY SON. 123 

with favor by the church in North Andover, which had been 
left destitute by the death of Dr. Symmes. Whether it were 
owing to their preference, or his, or to a special providence, he 
tarried there but one Sabbath, and his next remove was to the 
scene of his future labors — a field vastly more extensive, and 
one wRich he was eminently fitted to occupy. 



CHAPTER VII. 



Visits Portland, — his favorable reception, and Ordination. 

On the morning of Monday, August 24th, Mr. Pay son left 
Andover for Portland ; his mind absorbed with heavenly medi- 
tations on the road, and praying and renewing his covenant with 
God at his resting places. Stop where he might, he was sure 
to find or to make the place a Bethel ; and while the solemnity 
of his devotions resembled that of the patriarch's on his way 
to Pandan-aram, his faith realised what that patriarch saw in 
vision, and found an open way of communication bet ween earth 
and heaven. Thus he journeyed, 

" Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise." 

He arrived on the morning of the third day, and lost no time in 
renewing his acquaintance, and entering on his new duties there. 
The frightful reputation of being a Hopkinsian had preceded 
him, and accounts in part for the following entry in his diary: 

*'AuG. 27. Visited a number of my old friends, lest they 
should think me sour and morose, and so pay less regard to my 
preaching. Was kindly received." 

A letter to his parents contains more on the same subject : — 

" Portland, Aug. 31, 1807. 
^^I arrived here on Wednesday morning, 26th inst., after a 
very pleasant ride, from which I have already derived sufficient 
advantage to compensate me for the time and expense. My 



MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 125 

health seems wonderfully improved ; I enjoy sound, refreshing 
sleep, which I have not for two months before ; and I feel strong 
and able to study. Nor shall I derive less advantage, in another 
point of view, from this tour. Mr. Kellogg tells me, that he had 
heard in Boston, that I was rapidly gaining the title and reputa- 
tion of a Hopkinsian; and that a great part of his plan, in 
getting me here, was to counteract that report, and, with the 
assistance of Mrs. K., to make something of me, to use his own 
expression. However this may be he seems disposed to be of 
service to me and has already given me some hints, that will be 
very beneficial. He has also a good library, and I shall, I trust, 
be able to spend the time here both profitably and agreeably. 
As the people here have heard that I am a Hop., and think it a 
great pity that a harmless young man should be transformed 
into such a shocking creature, I thought it might have a good 
effect to call upon all my old acquaintances, in order to convince 
them that my religion was not of that morose, unsocial kind 
which they supposed ; and that a Hopkinsian, supposing me to 
be one, was not quite so bad as the devil. My visits were 
received more kindly than I expected, and, I have reason to 
think, will, in some measure, produce the designed efiect." 

Mr. Payson entered upon the appropriate duties of his calling 
with the most exemplary diligence and energy, and the effects 
were almost immediately visible. Such was the attention exci- 
ted by his preaching, that he seems to have regarded himself as 
in great danger of thinking more highly of himself than he 
ought to think, and to have brought all his spiritual forces to 
bear against this propensity. With reference to this, he observed 
frequent seasons of humiliation, and oftener renewed the conse- 
cration of himself and his talents to God. It was the burden 
of his secret prayers, that he might be delivered from pride, 
from self-seeking, from preaching himself, instead of Christ 
Jesus the Lord. 

"Sept. 6. Heard my performances much commended: and, 
fearing lest I should feel puffed up, I withdrew, and prayed 
earnestly that I might be preserved from it. And God was 
pleased to assist me in a most wonderful and unusual manner 
in pleading, not only for that and other mercies, but in renewing 



126 MEMOIR OF 

covenant with him, and praising him for all his mercies. Never 
felt more gratitude, more humility, more love to God and benev- 
olence to man, than at this time. Indulged some hopes that 
God would pour out his Spirit, but hardly expected it. Saw 
that all the mercies I received were bestowed for the sake of my 
iLord Jesus alone; and that in myself I was far more deserving 
of hell than of all that happiness. Could not praise God as I 
wished, but my soul panted, and almost fainted with ardor of 
desire to glorify him, and be wholly devoted to his service. 

'• Sept. 14. Read Baxter on Pride. Was almost overwhel- 
med to see how much I have in my heart. Could hardly refrain 
from despairing of ever being humble." 

In a letter to his father, written a few days after this, he com- 
plains of himself in the following strain: — 

''I almost despair of making any improvement in this world. 
God keeps loading me with one blessing on another, but I can- 
not grow any more grateful. I cannot feel less proud, less 
selfish, less worldly-minded. O, if God by his Spirit did not 
prevent me, and still in a manner force me to keep striving al- 
most against my will, I should give up in despair. It makes no 
difference — ^let me labor ever so much, and feel ever so lively 
while alone, the moment I go into the pulpit, or a conference 
meeting, I am as dead and stupid as a post, and have no realiz- 
ing sense of divine things. The meeting-house is the grave 
of every thing good, and the place where corruption always 
gets the mastery. Sometimes it seems impossible that it should 
be so. I set out from home so strong, so raised above the world, 
with so much zeal for God, and so much compassion for poor, 
perishing sinners, that I cannot help hoping it is going to be 
better with me. But the moment I begin, it is all gone! When 
I seem to be much engaged, and the people think I am all oil 
fire, I fear that God sees my heart like a mere block of ice. If 
there are any who can look back with pleasure on a life well 
spent, I can hardly hope that I am a Christian, or that I ever 
shall be one ; for never shall I be able to do that. Adieu, my 
dearest parents: do continue to pray for me, for I am walking 
on ice, or, as the prophet says, ' in slippery places in darkness.' " 

Mr. Payson's situation was at this time truly critical and 



EDWARD PAYSON. 127 

dangerous. His reception as a preacher was flattering almost 
beyond example. Not one man in a thousand can bear human 
applause uninjured. " Wo unto you," said Christ to his disci- 
ples, -'when all men shall speak well of you." The most 
dreadful part of this wo is that which falls upon one's spiritual 
interests. Mr. Payson had scarcely been six weeks in Portland, 
before overtures were made to him, by each of the three Con- 
gregational societies, to become their teacher; and there was 
also a plan agitated to build him a new meeting-house. Appli- 
cations from different parishes in the vicinity, and likewise from 
abroad, were frequent. The letters, which he wrote to his 
parents, at this period, contain interesting allusions to his cir- 
cumstances : — 

^'Portland, Sept. 12, 1807. 
''My dearest parents: — When I came here, I could not 
help indulging a secret hope, that I should be so favored as to 
see some happy effects resulting from it. I know not, however, 
whether it arose so high as hope; it was, perhaps, rather a wish. 
Whether this wish will in any degree be gratified, is at present 
imcertaih. The people seem to rouse themselves up, and stare, 
and hardly know what to make of it. They, however, appear 
to exhibit less enmity and ill-will than I expected. Some of 
the principal men, who are not suspected of being very friendly 
to religion, say, as I am informed, that, to be sure, my sermons 
are rather hot, but they are convinced no other kind of preaching 
would ever do any good. Others say, it cuts up all their own 
foundation, and all their hopes of heaven; but they think it a 
duty to support these doctrines, because they are true. The 
congregation is very solemn and attentive; but I dare not yet 
hope for any lasting effects. Some are displeased, and have 
left the meeting; but there are three come from other meetings 
for one who goes av\^ay. The poAver of novelty, however, is 
great, and when that is over, I expect there will be less attention, 
and less crowded meetings." 

TV ^ ^ ^ 

"I understand there is quite a revival of religion at North 
Yarmouth, about a dozen miles from this place. There have 
already been two or three there, and they seem to be remarkably 
favored. One memorable instance, which has lately taken 
place, I have just heard. Three females, the wives of three 



128 MEMOIR OF 

sea-captains who were all at sea in different parts of the world, 
were deeply impressed, and, after severe convictions, obtained 
comfort. Just about the same time, all their absent husbands 
were converted at sea. The wives, meanwhile, were anxious 
for the spiritual welfare of their husbands, and the husbands 
were no less concerned for their wives. Judge what a happy 
meeting they must have had when they found what God had 
done for each other during their separation. The attention is 
still increasing, and there have been about thirty added to the 
church." 

. "September 19. 

"I have been ill a week of influenza, which attacked me pretty 
severely. It seems as if it was sent to afford a fresh opportunity 
for displaying the unwearied care and kindness of our heavenly 
Father, in raising up friends whenever I Avant them. In this case, 
he has provided me a nurse and a mother in the woman who 
presides over the family in Mrs. K's absence. She has been 
doubting respecting her state, and her right to join the church 
for some years; and was so thankful because I conversed with 
her on these subjects, that she was ready to kill me with kind- 
ness. In addition to this, I have been overwhelmed with 
preserves, jellies, <fec. of the richest kinds, from all parts. Some 
have sent them in, from whom I should have little expected it. 
It seems as if God were putting it to trial, whether my insensible 
heart can be wrought upon by mercies. I fear the result of the 
trial will be, that nothing but severe judgments will answer. 

" I sometimes think it strange, that, when God is so ready to 
bestow mercies, he does not enable us to receive them with more 
gratitude, and why he seems less ready to give us grace to con- 
quer pride and self Pra}^ for me, my dear parents, that I may 
be enabled to conquer them." 

"September 26. 

"I am, and have been, for some days, in a great dilemma. 
Last Monday, I had an application to preach for a new society 
here, which Mr. S.. the missionary, has lately drawn together. 
They are building a meeting-house, and expect to be incorporated 
at the next session of the legislature. They have heard me at 
Mr. K's, and intimated that, if I Avould come, they should prob- 
ably settle me, as one man had offered a hundred pounds to the 
society on that condition, and thirty more had offered to subscribe 



EDWARD PAY SON. 129 

for Pews. On Tuesday I had a most earnest invi- 
tation from Westboro' to come immediately, and another from 
Gorham. They have also applied to me to come to Dr. Deane's 
parish, and preach for them ; and now, this morning, Mr. Kel- 
logg has a letter from Portsmouth, wishing me to come there 
immediately. On the other hand, Mr. K. insists upon it, that I 
ought to stay with him through the month of October. There 
seems to be some attention excited, and two persons have been 
convinced, and I hope converted, since I have been here. It is, 
I find, Mr. K.'s plan, if I should prove popular enough, to have 
a new society, and unite it with his own in such a manner, as 
to have one parish in two societies, and two ministers to preach 
in each house alternately. 

Now, my dear parents, what shall I do? I am so much 
afraid that I shall be left to lean to my own understanding, that 
I have no comfort. I wish to go to Portsmouth, because it is on 
my way home, but principally because the society there is in a 
bad state, and in great danger of breaking up and going to the 
Universalists. On the other hand, there seems to be a door 
opened for great usefulness here ; and Providence has, in some 
measure, owned my labors, and the people seem very anxious 
to have me stay. If one could only hear the Spirit, as a voice 
behind him, saying, 'This is the way, walk in it,' — it seems 
duty would be easily discovered. I know that there is no need 
of being uneasy, when we have done the best we can to discov- 
er the path of duty ; but there is so much self-seeking in every 
thing I do, that I cannot be sure I have sincerely sought to dis- 
cover the path of duty. It is such a dreadful thing to be left to 
follow one's own guidance. My dear father, do write to me." 

The following sentences from his diary will be regarded as a 
curiosity by those who are acquainted with Dr. Payson's emi- 
nence as a ready speaker : — 

''Sept. 25. In the evening, went to a conference, and for the 
first time expounded extempore. Made out poorly." 

His rapidly rising fame, and the flattering attentions paid him 
as a preacher, injurious as they can hardly fail to be, did not 
divert Mr. Payson from the great object of the ministry of rec- 
onciliation. If his desire for personal holiness was exceeded 
by any other, it was by the desire of the salvation of sinners. 

VOL. I. * 17 



130 MEMOIR OF 

''Sept. 27. Sab. Was favored with great and unusual as- 
sistance both parts of the day, and the people were remarkably 
serious and attentive. Came home overwhelmed with a sense 
of the astonishing goodness of God. Felt grateful, humble, and 
contrite, and was enabled to ascribe all the glory to God. In 
the evening, was favored with great faith and fervency in prayer. 
It seemed as if God would deny me nothing, and I wrestled for 
multitudes of souls, and could not help hoping there would be 
some revival here. 

''Sept. 28. Found that my labors have not been altogether 
without effect. Was favored with the greatest degree of free- 
dom and fervency in interceding for others. I seemed to travail 
in birth with poor sinners, and could not help hoping that God 
is about to do something for his glory and the good of souls. 

"Sept. 29. Was considerably affected with a view of the 
awful condition of sinners, and was favored with some freedom 
in praying for them. I know not what to think, but at present 
there seem to be some indications in Providence, that this is to 
be my station in the vineyard. I desire to bless God, that he 
scarcely suffers me either to hope or fear the event, but to feel 
resigned to whatever he may appoint. 

"Sept. 30. Felt much of a dependent, confiding, child-like 
spirit. God is doing great things for me. I never enjoyed such 
a season before, as I have for these three days past. My heart 
overflows with love and thankfulness to God and pity for poor 
sinners. 

"Oct. 4. Went to meeting with more of a solemn frame 
than usual. Was greatly assisted, and the congregation was 
apparently very solemn and devout. Was ready to sink, to see 
how easily the impression seemed to wear off. 

"Oct. 7. Visited two persons under conviction, conversed 
and prayed with them. Had a most refreshing season in secret 
prayer. Renewed covenant with God. My soul seemed to 
dilate and expand with happiness. All the stores of divine 
grace were opened, and I took freely for myself and others. 
Was assisted to plead for poor sinners. 

"Oct. 8. Was favored with clear displays of the divine 
glory this morning, and was enabled to rejoice in God with joy 
unspeakable. Felt sweetly humbled and resigned to every 
thing which should befall me. In the afternoon preached a 



^ EDWARD PAYSON. 131 

lecture, and was left dry and barren. In the evening, preached 
another, and was very greatly assisted. Came home humbled 
in the dust under some stirrings of spiritual pride, which I 
could not repress. Was favored with a most refreshing season 
in secret prayer. Felt that love which casteth out fear, and 
hung on the bosom of my God with inexpressible pleasure. 
The Scriptures too were exceedingly sweet. Had been in some 
perplexity respecting the path of duty ; but was helped to roll 
the whole burden upon Him. 

" Oct. 9. Was visited by a minister who heard me preach 
last evening, and received many valuable hints from him re- 
specting my feelings in prayer and preaching. 

"Oct. 11. Never was in such an agony before in wrestling 
for mercies, especially in behalf of poor souls, and for a work 
of religion in this place. My soul seemed as if it would leave 
the body, and mount to heaven in the most ardent desires for 
their salvation. Went by invitation to spend the evening in an 
irreligious family. Found several assembled, and to my very 
great but pleasing surprise, the conversation took a very serious, 
religious turn. Came home, hoping that God was on the point 
of doing something in this place, but was so worn out, that I 
had little life in prayer. 

'•Oct. 16. Church meeting — a profitable and refreshing 
time. Some new persons are awakened; Christians are stirred 
up, and there is every reason to hope God is on the pomt of 
appearing for us. 

" Oct. 17. Was enabled, in some measure, to mourn over 
my pride and selfishness, unbelief, and hardness of heart. 
Having last evening proposed to the church that we should 
spend an hour this evening in prayer, separately, for the out- 
pouring of the Spirit, attempted to pray, but feared my motives 
were selfish. However, prayed that God's people might not be 
ashamed on my account. 

" Was informed that the church and congregation had given 
me a unanimous call. I know not what Providence intends by 
this. Went and spread the matter before God, and entreated 
him to overrule all things to his own glory. 

" Oct. 19. Spent the whole day in conversing with persons 
exercised in their minds. In the evening, visited and prayed 
with a number of persons, who met for that purpose. 



m 



MEMOIR OF 



" Oct. 20. Felt something of the constraining influence of 
the love of Christ. For some nights past, have been laboring 
in my sleep with poor souls. Felt strong in the Lord and in the 
power of his might. In the afternoon, went to visit two persons 
in distress, and found them in a hopeful way. In the evening, 
preached a lecture extempore. Was not much assisted myself, 
but what was said seemed to come with power. Many were in 
tears, and all seemed stirred up ; so that, though I went crushed 
down under discouragement, I came back rejoicing. 

'' Oct. 22. Began to feel more clear respecting my compli- 
ance with the call I have received. 

*' Oct. 23. Was left to murmur and feel impatient, and my 
proud, unhumbled heart rose against God ; but he was gra- 
ciously pleased to touch my heart, and bring me on my knees 
before him, and thus I obtained pardon. In the evening, 
attended a conference, and preached. Was very much shut up, 
but found it was a most refreshing season to many of God's 
people, so that I was astonished to see how God could work by 
the most feeble means. 

** Oct. 24. Went to visit a man almost in despair. He 
talked like a Christian, but was in dreadful distress, and 
rejected all comfort. Prayed with him, but in vain. 

''Oct. 25. Visited and prayed with a sick woman. Found 
her and her husband under strong convictions. In the evening, 
was visited by persons under concern of mind, and conversed 
with them. 

'• Oct. 27. In the evening, attended a conference, and 
preached to a crowded and solemn audience. Saw the hand of 
God evidently appearing in it, and came home strengthened, 
though I had gone much cast down. 

" Oct. 28. Felt some gratitude and humility this morning. 
Wondered how God could choose such a worthless wretch to 
bestow such favors upon. Dined with ***^, a lawyer, and 
had much religious conversation with him, with which he 
seemed much affected. In the evening, met a number who were 
under serious impressions. Conversed and prayed with them. 

''Oct. 29. Was greatly dra^vn out in prayer for a contmu- 
ance of God's presence, and for myself and some particular 
friends. Spent the day in visiting a number of persons who 
were under concern, and found that some who had been dear to 



EDWARD PAYSON. 133 

my heart, and who I could hardly hope were under conviction, 
appeared to have met with a real change. Was overwhelmed 
with wonder, love, and gratitude, at the goodness of God ; but, 
as an offset to this, was informed of some injurious observations, 
and was, moreover, harassed and almost distracted with doubts 
where Providence called me to settle ; but was able, at length, 
to cast the burden upon the Lord." 

r On the 30th of October, he set out on a journey to his father's, 
taking Portsmouth on his way, where he preached on the Sab- 
bath, and received a request from the people to tarry among 
them, which he felt it his duty to decline. He reached home 
November 3, and spent the following day in conversing with his 
friends : — " Consulted them respecting my call, and found that 
tliey were unanimous in advising me to accept the call of Mr. 
Kellogg's parish. Rejoiced to see my path made plain before me. 

'' Nov. 6. Parted from my friends with prayer, and set out 
for Portsmouth in a violent storm, which continued most of the 
day. Was harassed with storms within, part of the way, but 
'afterwards was calm. 

" Nov. 8. Was favored with a most sweet, refreshing sea- 
son, before meeting, in secret prayer. Preached three times, the 
last to a crowded and solemn assembly. Was invited to stay 
and preach on probation, but was obliged to decline. 

'• Nov. 9. Rode to Portland. Was favored on the road with 
very clear manifestations of God's love. Felt most ardent emo- 
tions of gratitude, with full resolutions to devote myself to the 
service of God. Was overwhelmed with a sense of his mercies, 
and my own un worthiness. 

''■ Nov. 10. Had a deep sense of the difficulty and importance 
of the gospel ministry, and of my own utter insufficiency for it. 
Was ready to sink under it, till in some measure relieved by a 
view of the fulness and sufficiency of Christ. Moses and Jere- 
miah were very encouraging examples. 

'• Nov. 13. In the evening, attended a church conference, and 
preached. Divine truth, though in an humble garb, came with 
great power, and the hearers seemed much affected. After com- 
ing home, heard of some difficulty, made by one of the church 



134 MEMOIR OF 

members, respecting the baptismal covenant, which I wish to 
have given up. Committed the case to God. 

** Nov. 15. Preached and read my affirmative answer to the 
call. Was favored with liberty, and the people seemed to be 
affected. 

'* Nov. 17. Visited a sick man ; found him partly deranged, 
clasping a Bible to his breast, which he would not suffer to be 
taken from him. 

*•' Nov. 30. Very unwell. From some symptoms, feel appre- 
hensive that my cough may terminate in a consumption ; but 
the thought is not disagreeable. The only thing painful about 
it is the pain it would give my parents. 

*' Dec. 1. Had a sleepless, painful night, but, through divine 
goodness, was kept patient, and even cheerful. Was very sick 
in the morning. 

" Dec. 3. Still quite unwell, but had a sight of my necessi- 
ties, and was helped to cry out for assistance. P. M. Had a 
sweet season in prayer. Could pray sincerely, that others might 
be exalted above me in gifts and graces, and that souls might 
be converted, let who would be the instrument. Felt weaned 
from the world, and resigned to whatever might befall me. 

*' Dec. 4. Extremely weak. Am convinced that I cannot 
live many years, if many months. Went out to see a sick per- 
son, and took more cold. 

"Dec. 7. Rose early; was in a cloudy kind of frame. 
Visited and prayed with a number of sick people. In the even- 
ing, was favored with a deep view of the importance and mag- 
nitude of the ministry, and had much freedom in crying for 
grace to help. 

" Dec 9. Though I have less sensible comfort, faith seems to 
be in exercise, and I will still trust in God, though he slay me. 

" Dec 10. Was seized with the symptoms of a fever. 

"Dec 11. Begin to think seriously that my time is short. 
My lungs appear to be deeply affected, and the result may be 
fatal. 

"' Dec 12. Had a melting season in prayer this morning. 
Felt viler than the vilest. Spent the evening with my father 
who came to attend the ordination. 

'* Dec. 14. My body and mind seemed alike weak and inca- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 135 

pablc of exertion. My cough increases and bids fair to 
terminate in a consumption. 

'' Dec. 15. Rose extremely unwell, and continued so during 
the day. Could do nothing. In the evening, tried to pray, 
but was soon interrupted by weakness and lassitude. 

'' Dec. 16. Ordination. Rose very early, and renewed my 
covenant with God, taking him for my portion, and giving my- 
self up to him for the work of the Gospel ministry. Had 
considerable assistance in this, and in seeking ministerial quali- 
fications ; but my strength failed. Felt in something of a quiet, 
happy, dependent frame in meeting, especially during the 
ordaining prayer." 

It is peculiarly gratifying to peruse such a record as this last 
paragraph contains, of the state of his mind on this most solemn 
and eventful occasion. That a mind so highly susceptible, and 
so frequently borne down to the very dust by its overwhelming 
sense of ministerial responsibility, should be preserved in this 
" quiet, happy, dependent frame," while in the act of assuming 
the most weighty and momentous of all trusts ever committed to 
man, — of consummating that sacred connexion which was to 
affect the everlasting weal or wo of numerous undying souls, — 
can be ascribed to nothing but the special favor of God. It 
should be noticed in honor of His faithfulness, who will not 
desert his devoted servants in any trying emergency. In antic- 
ipation of this crisis, and under the responsibilities of the labors 
which were conducting him to it, he had habitually cast his 
burden upon the Lord ; and by the Lord was that burden sus- 
tained. His mind was kept in peace, for it was stayed on God. 

" A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his 
steps." Mr. Payson went to Portland with no expectation, 
probably, of making that his permanent residence, but merely 
to supply, temporarily, Mr. Kellogg' s pulpit. Mr. K., undoubt- 
edly, had a further design in procuring his assistance, even from 
the first; but its accomplishment was suspended on circum- 
stances yet to be developed, and it could not, therefore, be prop- 
erly disclosed. But when, on experiment, he saw the young 
preacher's labors so well received by the people, and so evi- 
dently blessed, he spared no endeavors to retain his valuable 
services, which he showed himself willing to do at the expense 
of any reasonable sacrifice. 



136 MEMOIR OF 

With the feelings, and principles, and rigid self-discipline, 
the consciousness of human guilt and weakness, and of the 
consequent necessity of an atonement, and a divine power to 
work all our works in us and for us, which are to be recognised 
in the extracts that have been given, it is not to be presumed 
that Mr. Payson would show much indulgence to a lax theology, 
which degrades the Saviour, and flatters man. It was from 
deep-rooted principle, that he could not hold fellowship with 
such doctrines, and that he abstained, in his ministerial inter- 
course, from all official acts, which would be interpreted as a 
token of such fellowship. Hence he endured no small share 
of obloquy, for which those of a different faith are not exclu- 
sively responsible. 

The steadfastness with which he avoided giving the least 
countenance to what he regarded as "another gospel," must have 
been greatly confirmed by the exercises at his ordination. The 
sermon on this occasion, preached by his venerable father, was 
founded on 1 Tim. v. 22, — "Lay hands suddenly on no man, 
neither be partaker of other men's sins," — and well illustrated 
the apostle's " caution against introducing persons suddenly into 
the ministry, and the reason with which that caution is en- 
forced." Some portions of it seem to have been almost pro- 
phetic; they show, at least, that the author was "able to discern 
the signs of the time." The paragraphs containing the applica- 
tion of the subject to his son, the pastor elect, will be here 
inserted. Though the circumstances m which they were uttered 
were suited to render them peculiarly impressive, they will be 
found to possess an interest and importance to commend them 
to general attention, independently of the occasion. 

" In fulfilling his purposes of mercy to our apostate race, it 
has pleased a sovereign God to constitute an order of men to 
preach the unsearchable riches of Christ, and thus toco-operate 
with himself in accomplishing that object, upon which his 
adorable Son came into our world. That it is permitted me to 
assist in introducing you, my dear son, into this highly favored 
number, as a fellow-worker with God in this glorious design, is 
an act of his grace, for which I hope our hearts are unitedly 
adoring his sovereign love. How astonishing is the goodness 
of God to his unworthy creatures ! How great the honor of 



EDWARD PAY SON. 137 

being admitted to share in the glory of that work which is all 
his own ! This, however, is not the hour of triumph. Your 
feelings, I hope, accord with that maxim of wisdom .^ — ' Let not 
him who girdeth on the harness boast himself as he that pntteth 
it olF.' Under the wise and holy government of God, no station 
or office confers honor, but in connection with a faithful discharge 
of its duties. If we would obtain that honor which cometh 
from God only, it must be by ' patient continuance in well 
doing.' The glories which now crown the human nature of 
the Lord Jesus Christ, were won in the field of battle. They 
are the just reward of invincible virtue and unexampled benev- 
olence. To be admitted into the number of his ministers, is 
honorable for this reason only, that we are thus brought into 
the field, where the highest honor is to be won; where all the 
virtuous feelings of the heart have full play ; and where an 
opportunity is afforded of bringing into action all the energies 
of the soul, in a service most intimately connected with the 
glory of God, and the salvation of mankind. In this distin- 
guished station, we are eminently a spectacle to the world, to 
angels, and to men. 

'' Your path of duty is made plain by the light both of pre- 
cept and example. Every motive which can influence the hu- 
man mind prompts you to fidelity ; and, for your encourage- 
ment to go boldly forward in the line of duty, almighty love 
opens its inexhaustible stores of wisdom, grace, and strength, 
inviting you to draw near and receive according to your neces- 
sities. The object of the observations, which have now been 
made, is to impress you wit?i a sense of the importance of in- 
vestigating, so far as human imperfection will admit, the charac- 
ters and qualifications of candidates for the ministerial office. 
To me this subject appears of vast, and, from the character of 
the age in which we live, of increasing importance. It is far 
from being my wish to see you contending for particular forms 
of expressing divine truth, or zealously engaged in supporting 
points, respecting which, through remaining imperfection, wise 
and good men are divided. This is far beneath the dignified 
object, which ought to engage the attention of the Christian 
minister. But, if my most earnest entreaties, if a father's 
solemn charge, have any influence, never will you be induced to 
employ the powers of ordination, with which you are now to be 

VOL. I. 18 



138 MEMOIR OF 

invested, in raising the enemies of God and his truth to the per- 
nicious eminence of teachers in the Christian church. In pursu- 
ing this leading object, it has been my aim to present to your 
mind the distinguishing characteristics of the pastor after God's 
own heart. I hope no earthly attainment appears in your view 
so desirable as that meekness and faithfulness, that superiority 
to selfish views, and those fervent, holy, disinterested affections, 
of which a sketch has now been exhibited. May they ever be 
the sole objects of your ambition, and be pursued with all that 
ardor, activity, diligence, and perseverance, with which the 
children of this world pursue its pleasures, its honors, and 
wealth. 

*' In laboring to form your mind to ministerial fidelity, may 
I not hope for some assistance from that active principle of filial 
affection, which has ever rendered you studious of a father's 
comfort 7 I can think with calmness, nay, with a degree of 
pleasure, of your suffering for righteousness' sake; and, should 
the world pour upon you its obloquy, its scorn and reproach, for 
your fidelity to your Master's cause, a father's heart would still 
embrace you with, if possible, increased fondness. But to see 
you losing sight of the great objects which ought to engage your 
attention, courting the applause of the world, infected with the 
infidel sentiments of the day, and neglecting the immortal inter- 
ests of those now about to be committed to your care ; — this, O 
my son, I could not support. It would bring down my gray 
hairs with sorrow to the grave. But is it possible, that in such 
a cause, with such motives to fidelity, and with prospects, may 
I not add, so peculiarly pleasing as those which now surround 
you, you should, notwithstanding, prove unfaithful 7 It is pos- 
sible ; for there is nothing too base, too ungrateful, or destruc- 
tive of our own most important interests, for human nature to 
commit; and, unless the grace of the Lord Jesus preserve you, 
the glory of God will be forgotten, your Saviour will by you bs 
crucified afresh, and his cause exposed to shame ; your sacred 
character will become your reproach, and, instead of the bless- 
ings of many ready to perish, you will accumulate the curses of 
perishing souls upon your head. May your preservation from 
this awful fate be the theme of our future eternal praises. 

'' Contemplating the sublimity of the apostolic pattern, do you 
ask. How shall I attain to such activity, such zeal, such purity, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 139 

such disinterestedness, and ardor of affection 1 Remember Paul 
was nothing. He himself makes the confession. ' It is not I,' 
says he, ' that hve, but Christ, that hveth in me ; and the hfe 
which I now hve in the flesh, I live by faith on the Son of God.' 
Thus you may hve ; thus you may come off more than a con- 
queror, and, though in yourself but a worm, may thresh the 
mountains of opposition, and beat them small as the dust. 
Should the blessed Redeemer grant — and grant he will, if you 
seek them — the influences of his Spirit, your happy soul will 
mount up as on eagles' wings, and rise to all those heights of 
holy affection, to which the great apostle soared. But I must 
set bounds to the effusion of feelings, which have, perhaps, 
already exhausted the patience of this assembly. Receive, my 
dear son, in one word, the sum of all a father's fond wishes : 
< Be thou faithful unto death.' " 



CHAPTER YIII. 



His concern for his flock. Reverse in his temporal prospects. Is taken from 
his work by sickness. 



The wisdom of God shines with most amiable lustre in the 
institutions of religion. The intelligent and devout observer 
sees in them evident traces of a divine original. They were or- 
dained by him who '' knew what was in man," and recognise 
most advantageously the leading principles of human nature. 
They have multiplied the relations which subsist among men, 
as social beings, and given to social qualities an incalculable 
value. They cement every tie which binds man to his fellow, 
and sweeten the enjoyments of every connexion. They heighten 
all the endearments of domestic life, and are designed and 
adapted to bring all mankind into one harmonious and happy 
family. Though they do not obliterate the distinctions of rank 
and office, and especially that of a teacher, they instruct '' the 
head not to say to the foot, I have no need of thee." In the 
church of Christ, the most closely compacted and endearing 
brotherhood which exists on earth, a common, fraternal affec- 
tion is reciprocated by its members — an affection growing out 
of, and continually cherished by, their mutual dependence, their 
common wants, and the sameness of their relation to their 
Maker and Redeemer. In addition to this, there is, in this 
blood-bought and sacred society, the relation of pastor and flock, 
which swells the aggregate of benefit received and of happiness 
enjoyed, in proportion to the numbers included in it. And 
when this relation is entered into from evangelical motives, and 
with a right spirit, a gushing forth of the affections is felt, which 



EDWARD PAY SON. 141 

was never felt before — a well-spring is opened, which time can- 
not dry up, and which renders the pastor's labor and toil, for 
the salvation of his charge, his choice and his felicity. Mr. 
Payson had already exhibited an interest in the welfare of souls, 
and a desire for their salvation, so great as to seem almost inca- 
pable of increase ; but, as soon as the pastoral relation was con- 
summated, he regarded those committed to his oversight with 
an appropriating, an endearing love, which identified their mter- 
ests and happiness with his own. 

'^ Dec. 17. Was favored with freedom and assistance in 
writing and prayer, and felt a strong love for the people of my 
charge. In the evening, attended a meeting of those who are 
under concern, and had some assistance. 

" Dec. 18. Felt in a sweet, dependent frame, and had liberty 
to cast myself and parish upon God. 

" Dec. 19. Awoke twice, after a day of excessive fatigue, 
drenched in a profuse sweat, and concluded that my time was 
short. 

" Dec. 20. Sabbath. Extremely weak. Felt as if 1 could 
not preach. In the afternoon, preached an occasional sermon, 
and was wonderfully carried through. Blessed be God. 

" Dec 21. Had a sweet season in prayer. My soul felt 
strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. I longed to 
spend and be spent in his service, and wondered at his aston- 
ishing goodness to such an unworthy wretch. Spent the whole 
day in visiting, with some profit and pleasure. In the evening, 
talked to a number of people on the nature of religion. After 
returning, found myself much exhausted. Feel convinced 
that I am in a consumption, and may as well die as cease my 



His illness continued severe for several days, so that he was 
directed by his physician to keep within. He enjoyed, on the 
whole, much quietness and resignation, but says, " I longed to 
be abroad among my people." Dec. 26, ten days after his ordi- 
nation, he expectorated blood, and " viewed it as his death- 
warrant, but felt tolerably calm and resigned." Three days 
later, however, he is found preaching an evening lecture. 

The calamities occasioned by the aggressions of foreign 



142 MEMOIR OF 

belligerentSj and by the restrictions imposed on commerce by 
our own government, fell at this time with peciihar weight upon 
the inhabitants of Portland. The darkest season through which 
the United States have passed since their independence, had now 
commenced. The distresses of the times are the subject of fre- 
quent allusion by Mr. Payson in his diary. The stagnation of 
business, the failures among the principal merchants, the hun- 
dreds of citizens and seamen thrown out of employment, and 
left destitute of the means of subsistence, and the sufferings of 
the poor, called forth largely his sympathy. To him, the town 
seemed threatened with universal bankruptcy ; and, whether 
with good reason or not, he considered the means of his own 
temporal support as cut off. But the tranquillity of his mind 
was never more uniform than at this calamitous season; and 
the object of his supreme desire and efforts was to turn the dis- 
tresses of the people to their spiritual advantage, rightly judging, 
that " the walls of Jerusalem might be built in troublous 
times." A picture of these distresses, as they appeared to him 
at the time, is drawn in a letter to his parents, dated 

" Portland, Dec. 28, 1807. 
" When father was here, he observed that my prospects were 
almost too happy for this world. They were so, it appears ; for 
they are now as unfavorable, humanly speaking, as they were 
then flattering. The prospect of war has produced here such a 
scene of wretchedness as I never before witnessed. A large 
number of the most wealthy merchants have already failed, and 
numbers more are daily following, so that we are threatened with 
universal bankruptcy. Two failia*es alone have thrown at least 
three hundred persons, besides sailors, out of employ ; and you 
may hence conceive, in some measure, the distress which the 
whole number must occasion. The poor-house is already full, 
and hundreds are yet to be provided for, who have depended on 
their own labor for daily bread, and who have neither the means 
of supporting themselves here, nor of removing into the country. 
Many, who have been brought up in affluence, are now depend- 
ent on the cold courtesy of creditors for a protection from the 
inclemency of the season. These things, however, are but the 
beginning of sorrows. As soon as the news of these failures 
reach , every man there, who has a hundred dollars owing 



EDWARD PAYSON. 143 

to him in Portland, will send down to secure it ; and the general 
stagnation of business is such, that a man who is possessed of 
ten thousand dollars, in real or personal estate, may not be able 
to answer a demand of five hundred, though it were to save him 
from ruin. If these times continue, nine tenths of the people 
here will be scattered to the four winds. I have scarcely a hope 
of receiving more than enough to pay my board, if I should stay 
till next spring ; and Mr. K. will want all his salary to support 
himself, as he fears that all his property is swallowed up in the 
general destruction. These failures have brought to light many 
instances of dishonesty among those in whose integrity un- 
bounded confidence was placed. And now all confidence is 
lost ; no man will trust his neighbor ; but every one takes even 
his brother ' by the throat, saying, Pay me that thou owest.' 
But I cannot describe, and I doubt whether you can conceive, 
of the distress we are in. 

" And now you will, perhaps, be grieved at this sudden blast 
of all my fine prospects, and cry. ' Poor Edward !' But you 
never had more reason to rejoice on my behalf, and to cry, 
^ Rich Edward !' than now ; for, blessed be God, my portion 
does not stand on such tottering foundations as to be shaken by 
these commotions. My dear parents, my dear sister, do not feel 
one emotion of sorrow on my account, but rather join with me 
in blessing God that he keeps me quiet, resigned, and even 
happy, in the midst of these troubles. I do not pretend not to 
feel them, however. All my worldly hopes are, apparently, de- 
stroyed ; and many of those w^ho are now ready to be turned 
into the streets are the dearest friends I have here ; not to men- 
tion the distress of the poor, who will, in human probability, 
soon be in a starving condition. In these circumstances, it is 
impossible not to feel. Still, if God is pleased to afford mo the 
same degree of support which he has hitherto, I shall be more 
happy than ever I was. I thought I knew, before, that this 
world was treacherous, and its enjoyments transitory; but these 
things have taught me this truth so much plainer, and weaned 
me so much more from creature dependences, that 1 desire to 
consider them among my chief mercies. It has long been my 
prayer, that if God had any worldly blessings in store for me, 
he would be pleased to give me grace instead of them, or change 
them into spiritual blessings ; and now he begins to grant my 



144 MEMOIR OF 

request. I am sorry for H.'s disappointment, and my own ina- 
bility to assist pa' out of his difficulties, which I once hoped I 
should be able to do. But I trust they will be sanctified, if they 
are not removed. What a blessed portion the believer has in 
the word of God, if he has only a hand given him to lay hold 
on it ! But too often our hands are withered, and heed not the 
divine command to stretch them out. 

" I tremble for our poor country. I fear the decree has gone 
out against her. My sins have helped to call down judgments 
upon her, and I desire to take what falls to my share, and bless 
God that my punishment is no heavier, and no more propor- 
tioned to my deserts. But nothing seems too bad to expect from 
present appearances. If we escape civil war, it will be well. 

"January 5, 1808. 
"I would not finish my letter before, because I could say 



nothing favorable respecting my health, which was then worse 
than ever, but, blessed be God, seems now unaccountably re- 
stored. The tumult in town has subsided into a dead calm; the 
embargo has put a stop to every thing like business, and people 
have now nothing to do but attend to religion; and we endeavor 
to give them meetings enough, since they have leisure to attend 
them. Next week, we purpose to keep a town fast, on account 
of our distressed situation. I am not without hopes that these 
things may be overruled to bring about a more extensive refor- 
mation. The attention appears to continue, and we hear of new 
instances of persons under concern. Feel no uneasiness respect- 
ing me. The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. The 
people are very kind, increasingly so. Some of our young con- 
verts have lost their all, and had their houses stripped; and it 
does my heart good to see them cheerful and quiet under it; 
Avhile others, who have no God, have lost their reason, or, 
worried almost incessantly, are apparently dying of a broken 
heart, or uttering the most bitter and distressing complaints. 
But it is a heart-rending sight to see those who have no other 
portion stripped naked of all worldly good. Their gods are 
taken away, and what have they more ?" 

*' Jan. 5. I find myself, from day to day, in the situation of a 
poor beggar, with nothing to plead but my necessities. In the 



EDWARDPAYSON. 145 

evening, preached to a serious audience, and was greatly en- 
couraged to hope for a reformation more general. Was much 
drawn out in prayer, both at meeting and after 1 came home. 

" Jan. 6. Hope that God is quickening me to run the way of 
his commandments with a more enlarged heart. 

"Jan. 10. Preached, and baptized seven persons, and ad- 
ministered the sacrament. Felt entirely exhausted. My con- 
stitution seems to be much broken, and a little labor wears 
me out. 

" Jan. 13. This day was devoted to fasting and prayer, by 
the town, on account of the present gloomy appearances. 

" Jan. 14. Hope the strong workings of corruption I have ex- 
perienced will make me more humble, and the gracious pardon 
I have received, more thankful. 

" Jan. 17. Sabbath. Was alarmed by cry of fire during 
family prayer. It did considerable damage, but, by God's good- 
ness, was got under, though the town was in imminent danger. 
Was much assisted in seeking a divine blessing on all our 
afflictions. Had no meeting in the forenoon. In the afternoon, 
preached with some liberty. 

" Jan. 22. In the evening, preached, and was much re- 
freshed and strengthened in my own soul. Found the Lord's 
work is going on. O what shall I render unto the Lord for all 
his benefits. 

" Jan. 24. Sabbath. Was favored with a sweet season 
in pleading for the divine presence. Hoped that God would 
make this a day of his power and grace. Was greatly 
assisted. Have lately been favored with more love to God, and 
zeal for Christ, than I used to have, and feel more compassion 
for sinners. 

'' Jan. 25. Seem to have some respite from the workings 
of corruption. Spent the day in visiting my people, and found 
many somewhat exercised. In the evening, attended a confer- 
ence with inquirers. Found some new cases, and had a pleas- 
ant evening. 

" Jan. 26. Felt eager desires to be wholly conformed to 
Christ, and to be carried away with the constraining influence 
of his love. 

" Feb. 4. Was overwhelmed with wonder, shame, and con- 
VOL. I. 19 



146 MEMOIR OF 

fusion, to reflect on the innumerable mercies I had received, 
and the ungrateful returns I had made. In the afternoon, 
preached at the poor-house, and found some of them much 
affected." 

Soon after this, he was seized with a violent pleuritic affec- 
tion, which rendered speaking a most painful and difficult exer- 
cise. The pain continued for some length of time, attended by 
various discouraging symptoms. He did not neglect to call in 
medical aid ; and the prescriptions of physicians were partially 
blessed. But the moment he felt a little relieved, he would re- 
sume his labors, " go to a conference, take more cold, and come 
home much worse." Repeatedly during this illness, when he 
was necessarily confined to his room, he enters a notice of this 
kind — " Spent almost the whole day in conversing with persons 
who were exercised with spiritual trials ;" and every such day 
Avas one of great fatigue, at the close of which, '' all his alarm- 
ing symptoms would return with great violence." When his 
conversation with inquirers was not prolonged to weariness, it 
proved '' refreshing to his spirits." Though he found it " trying 
to be laid aside as a broken vessel, when the people were wil- 
ling to hear," he could still bless God for sweet resignation to 
the divine will. '' Could not feel a wish respecting the continu- 
ance of my life ; but had God referred the matter to me, I 
should refer it back again to him. My only wish was — if I 
lived — to live unto the Lord ; and, if I died, to die unto the 
Lord." 

In the latter part of February, his physician found it neces- 
sary to forbid his preaching for several Sabbaths to come, and 
was in a measure successful in enforcing the prohibition, as his 
patient does not appear to have gone out to any religious meet- 
ing for more than a fortnight, when he ventured to '' attend a 
conference with those under concern, where he found several 
new inquirers, and was carried through beyond expectation." 
But the exposure was followed by a dangerous relapse, so that 
he thought his " health irrecoverably gone." He expresses no 
''grief" on this account, except as it "disabled him from 
attending meeting with those under concern." But the reader 
will prefer to learn his feehngs and circumstances from his own 
words : — 



EDWARD PAYSON. 147 

*^ March 26. Had an exceedingly painful night, worse than 
ever, but had some satisfaction in thinking of going to be with 
Christ. In the evening, was extremely unwell, and suffered 
great pain. 

'' March 27. Sabbath. In the morning, was very ill ; but 
was carried to meeting in the afternoon, though I could not 
preach. Was too weak to have much comfort at meeting, and 
came home very low spirited. 

''March 28. Am pretty well convinced that my disease is 
mortal. My mind partakes so much of the weakness of my 
body, that I can do nothing in religion, and can scarcely refrain 
from peevishness and fretting. 

" March 30. Had a most sweet and refreshing season in se- 
cret prayer this morning. Felt more ardent love to Christ than 
I have for some time, and was sweetly melted under a sense of 
my ingratitude. Was resigned to his will respecting me, and 
was Avilling to depart and be with him. 

" April 2. Conversed with some persons, who came in to see 
me. respecting means to be taken for the suppression of profanity 
and Sabbath breaking. 

'' April 3, Sabbath. Was able to attend meeting and preach 
part of the day. Was favored with some liberty at the sacra- 
ment, and had some foretaste of heaven, and desire to enjoy it. 
Am much afraid the reformation is going off. Was assisted to 
pray that the work might go on, and also in praying for myself, 
so that I hope the Lord has been pleased to strengthen me on 
this occasion. 

" April 4. Had unusual earnestness in prayer this morning, 
both for myself aijd others, and was sweetly melted in reading 
the divine word. Was depressed by finding that the town 
would do nothing respecting the observance of the Sabbath. 
Was enabled to pour out my sorrows and complaints before God 
with some degree of freedom. 

*' April 7. This day being our annual fast, I endeavored to 
humble myself before God for my personal sins, as well as our 
public transgressions, to renew covenant with God, and devote 
myself with new zeal to his service. Was likewise assisted in 
pleading with God for more grace, and life, and light, in my own 
soul, and in the souls of my people ; and that the reformation 
which has begun may be carried on gloriously and triumphantly 



148 MEMOIR OF 

among us. In the morning, attended meeting, and heard a 
most excellent sermon from Mr. K. In the afternoon, preached 
■with some degree of assistance. 

*' April 8. Had a very uncomfortable night, but was sweetly 
refreshed and strengthened in secret prayer this morning. It is 
long since I have found so much of the divine presence. Was 
much assisted in praying for a revival of religion, and cannot 
but hope God will yet bless us still more abundantly. 

*' April 9. Was employed most of the day in visiting. Was 
troubled with some who wished to join the church without be- 
ing qualified. 

'' April 14. Attended a conference for those under concern, 
and was refreshed to see a goodly number, and to trace the 
operations of the divine Spirit upon their minds. 

" April 15. Was so oppressed with a sense of vileness, that 
it seemed impossible for me to come ; and had such a sight of 
God's goodness, that it was impossible for me not to come. 

^' April 19. O, how sweet and refreshing it is to get above 
the load of sins, sorrows, and corruptions, which oppress us, and 
taste a little of communion with God ! 

*' April 20. Was strengthened with all might in the inner 
man, and enabled to renew covenant with God with great joy 
and sincerity. 

" April 21. I have long been in a lethargy, but I trust God 
is now bringing me out of it. Find great and unusual sweet- 
ness in the Bible, of late, for which I have long been praying ; 
and likewise a deeper sense of the importance of time, — another 
blessing for which I have long been seeking. The enemy, tak- 
ing advantage of my great weakness, threw me into a most 
sinful frame of mind ; but, on application to him who stills the 
waves, the tumult of my mind was stilled, and there was a 
great calm. 

" April 22. Was favored with some intense hungerings and 
thirstings after righteousness. Was led to believe, from certain 
circumstances, that my case was almost desperate, but felt most 
sweetly resigned. My only wish was that God might be glori- 
fied, either by my life or death. 

" April 23. Was assisted in prayer through the day. My 
heart seemed ready to break with its longings after holiness. 
Found unusual sweetness in reading the Scriptures. Am much 



EDWARD PAYSON. 149 

encouraged by the Lord's unusual goodness to me, that he is 
about to carry on his work still more gloriously in this place. 

" April 25. Was constrained to feel the truth of our Lord's 
declaration, ' Without me ye can do nothing.' " 

The following paragraphs from letters written during this 
spring Avill not be uninteresting : — 

"Portland, March 28, 1808. 

*'My Dearest Mother: — The Sabbath after I wrote to 
Grata, I preached, as I expected; but it proved too much for 
me, and I have not preached since, nor do I expect to till the 
weather grows warmer. Meanwhile the attention to religion 
seems to be at a stand, and whether it will not wholly subside, 
is more than we can tell. I need not say that this is a trial; 
but, blessed be God, he makes it lighter than I could have 
thought it possible. It is true I have not much sensible or pos- 
itive comfort; but I am kept perfectly quiet and resigned, and 
can hardly find whether I have any will or not. Should 
my health not be perfectly re-established before warm weather, 
I shall probably make a journey home. The people are abun- 
dantly kind, and suffer me to want for nothing which they can 
supply. Mr. K. is as kind to me as the parish, and, though he 
is almost overwhelmed with labor, yet he will not suffer me to 
expose myself in the least. 

" Now, after enumerating all these mercies, you will conclude, 
of course, that I am all wonder and gratitude, and that the con- 
stant language of my heart is, ' What shall I render unto the 
Lord for all his benefits?' That I ought to be so, I am very 
sensible; but, alas, how far from it I am in reality! I do in- 
deed feel some wonder how God can be so good; such a kind of 
wonder as we feel when thinking of his eternity or infinite 
power; but as to gratitude, I hardly know by experience what 
it means. I once used to think that I did feel grateful, when I 
had not half the reason for it which I now have; but I have 
done thinking so. I have done trying to praise God for his 
mercies. All we can do falls so far short of what we owe, that 
it seems little better than mockery to thank him in our feeble 
language, and I can only stand in stupid astonishment to see 
how good he will be notwithstanding all I can do to prevent it. 



150 MEMOIR OF 

Oj how true it is, that he will have mercy oa whom he will have 
mercy ! I can hardly help praying, sometimes, that he would 
take away all he has bestowed, so that, if I must sin, I need 
not sin against such overwhelming goodness. But it is as nat- 
ural for him to be good and kind, as it is for us to abuse his 
goodness ; and sooner shall our wicked hearts cease to sin, than 
he cease to pardon and forgive sin. 

^ '^ ^ ^ 

"The embargo, humanly speaking, will be detrimental to the 
morals of the people here. They have now nothing to do but 
saunter about, and then, of course, they get into all manner of 
mischief; and I fear they will lose all habits of industry and 
sobriety. However, if I have any health, we shall endeav- 
or to multiply meetings, and take up as much of their time as 
possible in that way." 

"Portland, April 18, 1808. 

"Yes, my dearest mother, I did think of my friends at Rindge 
when I apprehended I was about to leave them. They were 
almost, if not altogether, the only things that I felt the least 
regret at the idea of quitting; but that regret was alleviated, 
if not wholly removed, by the consoling hope, that I should 
soon meet them again, to be separated no more. But, my dear 
mother, why this anxiety? If I wish for life, it would distress 
me exceedingly to see you thus anxious, because I should fear 
it would lead God to remove from you one for whom you in- 
dulge so much concern. I shall certainly live as long as I have 
any thing to do for the divine glory; for 'we are immortal till 
our work is done ; ' and you, surely could not wish me to live 
after that is accomplished. Ever since I have entertained a 
comfortable hope of my acceptance in the Beloved, it has been 
my constant wish, that what I had to do might be done speedily; 
and if God should see fit to grant this wish, will it not be better 
than if I should be a long time in performing the work allotted, 
and drag on a wearisome life to no purpose 7 It was my great 
consolation, while taken off from active service, and laid aside 
as a broken vessel and a foot out of joint, that we may glorify 
God as much by patiently suffering, as by actively doing his 
will; and I hope this consolation will be yours, should he see 
fit to appoint me a life of weakness, pain, and suffering, or 
remove me first from this state of trial. It is a striking proof 



EDWARD PAYSON. 161 

of our depravity, that when God favors us with special mercies, 
he sees it necessary to send special afflictions, to teach us our 
dependence and keep us humble. Could I have continued sui- 
tably humble and thankful under the mercies I have lately 
received with respect to my settlement here, and the out-pour- 
ings of the Spirit, he never would have frustrated, first, my 
temporal prospects, and afterwards, by sickness, as it were cast 
me out of his vineyard, as an unworthy and an unfaithful labo- 
rer. But I not only deserved, but indispensably needed, all that 
has befallen me; and I desire to bless him for these afflictions, 
by which, when my roots began to shoot into and cleave to the 
earth, he plucked them up befora they were too deeply and 
firmly fixed, and thus experimentally taught me not to look for 
or expect any happiness beyond that of serving him here, but 
to wait for my reward in another world ; a lesson of infinite 
importance, and which I greatly needed. But it is a lesson so 
hard for us, or at least for me, to learn, that I well foresee, if I 
am continued here any length of time, it will be necessary for 
God to impress it upon my mind again and again by repeated 
and multiplied disappointments. My disposition is naturally so 
ardent, that I can enjoy nothing with moderation, so that I must 
either be totally indifferent to worldly objects, or else love them 
to such a degree, as to render them idols ; and then, of course, 
God must and will either imbitter or remove them. It is evident, 
therefore, that I must not expect worldly happiness ; for perfect 
indiff*erence to any object, or too much love for it, are equally 
incompatible with happiness ; and these are the only two states 
of which I am capable. For this reason I fear ever to enter the 
marriage state, for I should most certainly love a wife too much 
or too little. I know not, however, whether I ought to regret 
this trait in my character, since, by cutting me off" from other 
sources, it does, as it were, necessarily drive me to One whom I 
cannot love or serve too much, and compel me to place all my 
hopes in a future state. 

Since you complain that I did not tell you what my sickness 
has been, I will now inform you, lest you should suppose it 
worse than it was. It was an inflammation of the lungs and 
adjoining parts, attended for several weeks with extreme debility, 
sharp pain, restlessness, loss of appetite, difficulty of breathing, 
and an inability to converse for any time together. I should, I 



152 MEMOIR OF 

believe, have easily got over it, but I continued my labors much 
too long, hoping I should be able to drag along till warm weath- 
er, which, I trusted, would restore me. But after sacrament, 
when, by reason of the length of the services, I was so exhaust- 
ed that I could scarcely sit in my chair, I was obliged to go out 
in a cold, raw evening, to converse and pray with a dying sailor, 
who had just found out that he had a soul to save. The next 
day was a violent storm, in which I imprudently went out to 
visit some sick persons, and, the day following, was seized with 
a sharp, pleuritic pain in my side. However, as it was lecture 
night, I was obliged to preach, which I got through with much 
pain and some difficulty, but was then constrained to give up. 
Still I believe my confinement would have been much shorter, 
had not persons continued to come and converse with me, who 
were under concern. I could not find it in my heart to send 
them away, and the temporary exhilaration of spirits, which 
seeing them gave me, prevented me from finding out at first how 
much talking injured me, so that, for a long time, I lost much 
faster than I gained. But the sun seems to be a physician supe- 
rior to all the doctors, and his warm beams, under God, have in 
a good measure restored me. 

<Thus have I spent my health — an odious trick — 

In making known how oft I have been sick.' 

But if your patience is wearied, you must ascribe it to your 
own request, without which I should not have said a syllable 
on the subject." 

The " inflammation," he observes in another letter, " was 
brought on, by speaking in hot rooms, and then going out into 
the cold evening air." His illness proved, on the whole, a seri- 
ous one ; and he was obliged not only to suspend preaching, but 
to leave the scene of his labors before he could obtain relief. 
On the 27th of April, he set out for his father's house, to try the 
eflect of a journey and a country residence on his health. " In 
crossing a stream, whose bridge had been carried away, he was 
thrown from his horse, and thoroughly wet, so that he could 
proceed no farther." The next day, '' after riding about ten 
miles, he was seized with the symptoms of a violent fever, and 
obliged to stop, and take his bed." The third day, he pursued 
his journey moderately, but " in much pain and weakness, fear- 
ing that his lungs had been much injured by his late accident.'* 



EDWARD PAYSON. 163 

Before night of the fourth day, he " was extremely exhausted.'* 
''Find that a fever comes on at night, and goes off witli sweats 
in the morning." The next day was the Sabbath, which he 
spent in Milford, '' weak in body and mind. After meeting, 
Avhich he attended both parts of the day, had some conversation 
with a UniversaUst, but to httle purpose." " May 2. Reached 
home, and was most kindly received. After the flow of spirits, 
occasioned by seeing friends, was over, found myself much ex- 
hausted by my journey." 

For several days after his arrival, he grew worse, till he " lost 
all strength and appetite," and was taken with a " hectic fever," 
as was then supposed, " attended with night sweats and some 
cough. He gave up all hope of recovering, and felt willing to 
die ; had no murmuring thought." 

VOL. I. 20 



CHAPTER IX. 



Resumes his pastoral labors. Letters. Review of the y«ar. 



Mr. Payson's absence from his people was prolonged to a 
period of more than two months. During this time, he under- 
went much bodily suffering; but his resignation, and his 
demeanor generally, were such as became a man professing 
godliness. He obtained no relief, till near the close of this 
period, when he repaired to Boston for medical advice, by which 
he was encouraged to hope that he might again engage in 
preaching the gospel. His church observed a day of fasting 
and prayer on his account during his absence. He set out on 
his return to them, July 4th, not without "gloomy, melancholy 
fears. The work appeared great, the obstacles insurmountable, 
and his strength nothing." Most of the information, which 
could be collected respecting his circumstances for several suc- 
ceeding months, is contained in letters, that were written to his 
parents and sister. 

"Portland, Wednesday Evening, July 6, 1808. 
"My dearest parents: — When you see where and when 
this letter is dated, you will, I fear, be readv to exclam, 'Impru- 
dent boy ! why will he not learn wisdom by experience V But 
when you hear that no ill consequences have resulted from my 
haste, you will, I hope, pardon me. The truth is, when I got 
beyond the reach of the attraction of Rindge, which was not 
very soon, Portland began to draw with such irresistible force, 



EDWARD PATSON. 155 

that I found there would be no peace for me till I reached it. 
So, maugre my lame horse, who grew lamer and lamer every 
hour, I pressed on, and arrived here about six this afternoon. 
How it will be to-morrow, I cannot tell ; but, at present, I am 
perfectly well, and never was less fatigued by a journey in my 
life. Mr. K. is out of town, attending an association, and my 
host, with his wife, is absent on a visit ; so as yet I have seen 
nobody. 

" Thursday Morn. 

" The crowd of anxious and interesting thoughts which en- 
gaged my mind on my return would not suffer me to rest much 
last night, and of course I feel rather languid this morning. 
Still however, I never felt less inconvenience from such a journey 
Mr. K. has just left me. He gives a discouraging account of 
the situation of rehgion. - Several, whose convictions appeared 
to be of the right khid, have apparently lost them, and a gene- 
ral coldness seems to be prevailing. 

•'•Thursday Night. 

*' Perhaps you saw lately an account of a man who was tried 
here for murder. He was found guilty, and is now in the 
condenmed hole. I went this afternoon to visit him, and was 
greatly shocked and afflicted by a view of the bolts, chains, 
and other guards against escape. The entrance to his dungeon 
was by a small square hole, through which I could but just 
crawl by stooping double, and it was secured by a very thick 
door of solid iron. It was, however, sufficiently light, sweet, 
and free from dampness. The criminal is a young, stout, well- 
looking man, as far removed as possible from the idea one is 
ready to form of a murderer. He said he felt guilty and self- 
condemned before God, and felt the need of a Saviour, and of a 
new heart, but knew not how to procure either of them. But 
he said this in a cold, unfeeling way. I shall see him again 
soon, for my own sake, as well as his. It is well calculated to 
make one admire and adore distinguishing grace, which has 
kept us from the same crimes, to see a man, in the flower of 
life, shut up in a small dungeon, never to go out till he goes to 
a violent and ignominious death. In the evening, I went to 
our meeting for those under concern. This is still kept up. 
though very few attend, and they seem little engaged. 



156 memoir of 

"Friday. 
*'I have been trying the effect of sea-bathing. It was not a 
very favorable time, but I feel better for it, and shall repeat it 
daily. I have spent some time in going round among the 
people. They appear glad to see me ; but, alas ! I fear there 
are no hopes of any further reformation at present. Many, 
whom I left under deep concern, have lost all their impressions ; 
others are cold ; Christians seem to be discouraged. Though 
I expected this, it is almost too much for me to bear. I am 
dispirited and dejected; my very soul sickens and shrinks back 
from what is before me. Weakened by sickness, my mind 
seems to have lost, at once, all faith and fortitude. I have no 
assistance in writing. My ideas are all confused. I seem to 
have no power to get hold of people's consciences, but, as 
somebody expresses it, 'my intellects have got mittens on\" 

"Sunday Evening. 
"I preached to-day, and felt pretty much as I expected. No 
life — people stupid. I shall get hardened to these things soon ; 
but at present they are distressing indeed. But though I am 
perplexed, I am not utterly in despair ; though cast do\vn, I am 
not destroyed. Somehow or other, I shall be carried through. 
As to my health, I have little leisure to think of it amidst the 
more interesting things which oppress me. I believe, however, 
I shall suffer but little inconvenience from speaking to-day." 

"Portland, July 16, 1808. 
"My dear sister: — I know not why it was, but I never felt 
more pain at leaving home, since I first began to venture 
abroad, than when I left Rindge for Portland. I rode in a 
very melancholy mood all day, and seldom have I felt more 
unpleasantly. This, you will say, was but an ungrateful 
return to my heavenly Father, for his goodness ; but, though I 
felt sensible that it was, I could not alter the course of my feel- 
ings. My mind had become so tender by being accustomed to 
kindness and attention, that it seemed to shrink from every 
thing like coldness ; and it was in vain to expect that kindness 
from others, which I experienced from parental and sisterly 
affection at home. The difiiculties, too, of the ministry, were 



EDWARD PAYSON. 157 

all before me. Like Peter, I looked only at the waves and bil- 
lows, forgetting the almighty arm that was extended for my 
support ; and, consequently, like him, I sunk in the depths of 
despondency. Nor is the prospect, now I am here, calculated 
to cheer me. Iniquities abound; the love of many is waxen 
cold ; the enemy seems coming in as a flood ; the Spirit of the 
Lord no longer lifts up a standard against him ; and I, what 
can I do? What is worst of all, is, that many are ready to 
think, that, because I am returned, religion will revive. This 
sickens and discourages my very soul ; for I know, assuredly, 
that, while this is the case, my labors will be utterly imsuc- 
cessful. This shows, too, that they have not learnt, by my 
sickness, what God meant they should learn, and will bring a 
blast upon me and my exertions. Still, however, blessed be 
God. he does not suffer me utterly to despair. That text, 
' Fear thou not, for I am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I am 
thy God : I will strengthen thee ; yea, I will uphold thee with 
the right hand of my righteousness' — never fails to bring 
relief even in the darkest hours. In addition to this, I find 
some relief in conversing with those who were taken into the 
church before I left them, most of whom seem to be humble, 
growing Christians ; so that I have still abundant reason to be 
thankful; but, alas! I cannot. You, my sister, never will 
know what it is to attempt to go through the duties of the min- 
istry without God. I stagger along under the burden, like 
those poor travellers, who were cast away in the deserts of 
Arabia, ready every step to sink under it; but when it seems as 
if I could not take another step, but must lie down and die, 
some spring opens to my view, and I get strength and courage 
to drag along a little farther. But enough of this melancholy 
strain. 

'' My health continues to improve rapidly, and I am almost 
perfectly well. Mr. R. preaches here next Sabbath, on an ex- 
change with Mr, K., who goes to administer the sacrament at 
Gorham. He is much liked ; they are, I believe, unanimous, 
or nearly so, in his favor, and would settle him off" hand, had 
they not written to a Mr. B. previous to Mr. R.'s coming. 
They think they are bound in honor to hear Mr. B., and 
Mr. R. feels a little delicate about staying, under these cir- 
cumstances. 



158 memoir of 

" July 21. 

"I mentioned, 1 believe, in my last letter, that there was a 
criminal here, imder sentence of death for murder. He was 
executed to-day, and I have strong hopes he died a sincere 
penitent. But the circumstances are too long for a letter. 

^' My health continues to improve with respect to the diffi- 
culties in my breast; but I am so oppressed with melancholy 
that Hfe is a burthen. I was to have preached a sermon at 
the execution I have just mentioned; and though I did not 
feel able to write, I endeavored to force myself to it. But a 
melancholy mind will not be forced, and I found, that, if I did 
not desist, I should be distracted. On the other hand, the idea 
that such an opportunity of doing good should be lost, drove 
me back to fresh endeavors. The misery I have endured for 
three days is inconceivable, and has made me quite sick. It 
seemed as if I would willingly have been hanged in his place, 
rather than feel as*I did. I can more easily believe that all 
other things work together for good, than that melancholy 
does. It appears to be full of evil, and to be productive of no 
manner of good either to myself or others. But it shall not 
cause you any more uneasiness at present, for I will bid you 
adieu, till 1 am in better humor. Remember me to all friends ; 
ask my father and mother to write to and pray for me. I 
would give up preaching, if I dared; but 'wo is me, if 1 
preach not the gospel' Farewell — and may you never know, 
by experience, the present feelings of . 

'•Your affectionate, though unhappy brother.'' 

"Portland, August 3, 1808. 
" My dearest parents : — I had almost resolved not to write 
again till I received letters from home, which I have been look- 
ing for Avith much impatience and some hard thoughts ; but, 
lest you should impute my silence to a wrong cause, I will put 
an end to it for the present, and tell you that I am gradually 
growing better, and am, in a manner, perfectly well. I preach 
in all weathers, and at all hours, without much, if any, incon- 
venience; and still gain strength notwithstanding; and the 
people say that I speak now as loud and strong as ever, though 
I did not when I first came back. I have also thrown off my 



1 
I 



EDWARD PAYSON. l59 

melancholy fits, and am as cheerful as ever. The state 
of religion, however, is not such as I could wish. 

"I preached, last Sabbath, on man's depravity, and attempted 
to show, that, by nature, man is, in stupidity and insensibility, 
a block ; in sensuality and sottishness, a beast ; and in pride, 
malice, cruelty, and treachery, a devil. This set the whole 
town in an uproar, and never was such a racket made about 
any poor sermon ; it is perfectly inconceivable to any who have 
not seen it. But I cannot help hoping, that amidst all this 
smoke, there may be some latent sparks, which will burst out 
into a blaze. We had a lecture, last evening, in the meeting- 
house, which was much more crowded than any we ever had 
before. However, our fears are, as yet, much greater than our 
hopes. 

"Mr. K. is hke to lose his youngest child, and his oldest is 
quite sick. He is also slandered and abused beyond all meas- 
ure. Yet he bears all these trials in a manner which is surpri- 
sing. He is less gay, but scarcely less cheerful, than usual ; 
nor would any one suspect, from his appearance, that he was 
suffering in body, friends, or estate. The embargo causes us 
much uneasiness, though not more than was to be expected. 
But I tremble to think of next winter ; for the poor will suffer 
incalculably, both for want of provisions and fuel." 

The sermon alluded to in this letter is probably one which he 
preached from John viii. 44, and which is still remembered with 
lively impression by some of the hearers, whose account of its 
effects amply sustains his own description. In the course of the 
following week, there might be heard one man hailing another as 
"brother devil!" This, coming to Mr. Payson's ears, so far 
from being regarded as a circumstance of discouragement, in- 
spired him with the hope that good would ultimately result from 
it — a hope which the event justified; for some of these "brave 
spirits" were afterwards humbled at the foot of the cross. His 
description of the "natural man" is given in terms which he re- 
peatedly applies to himself in his private journal; and their ap- 
plication to the species was made in the fulness of an honest 
heart. They show, too, that he was not indebted to flattery for 
any part of his popularity. Still, such a representation of the 
subject is of questionable propriety, and, from another preacher 



160 MEMOIR OF 

> 

might have been productive of none but evil consequences. And 
yet some young, rash, ignorant ministers will be more emulous 
to copy this, than any other trait in his preaching. After letting 
off a volley of harsh, impertinent, bitter, and extravagant epi- 
thets, with a heart as callous as that which they describe, they 
will flatter themselves that they have been signally faithful, and 
are "just Hke Dr. Payson!" But they mistake his character, 
as well as their own. His severest expressions were uttered 
with the moving tenderness of a heart that yearned over the 
guilt and impending misery of his fellow-men. The wounds 
he inflicted were " the wounds of a friend." Those on whom 
his strokes fell with deadliest eflect, could not but feel that be- 
nevolence aimed the blow. 

"August 10. 

" I have just received your letter, my dear mother, and will 
now put an end to mine, which a press of duty has made me 
lay by. Mr. K.'s child is dead, and that has thrown a great 
deal of business upon my hands. He is going a journey soon, and 
I must finish visiting the people before he goes, as I shall have 
no time afterwards. Your letter afl^orded me some comfort at a 
time when I needed it. We have lost all hopes of any more at- 
tention at present, and I am in some measure reconciled to it; 
for if a revival should take place immediately after my return, 
people would not give God the glory. The opposition grows 
more and more bitter; every mouth seems to be open to revile, 
and Christians, instead of supporting me, seem to think that it 
will not do to tell the whole truth, lest the world should be too 
much offended. I was prone to trust to Christians, and think 
that, though all should be offended, yet they would not; but I 
find it will not do to put trust in man, however good he may be. 
Even Christians had much rather hear of their privileges, their 
good estate, and the happiness prepared for them, than be told 
plainly how defective they are, and urged to greater diligence, 
zeal, and fidelity. I think, sometimes, that all the service I shall 
do the church will be to change them from legal to evangelical 
hypocrites ; for they have now got their cue, and, instead of say- 
ing that they do all they can, and hope Christ will do the rest, 
they are all complaining, like Mrs. ******^**j what dreadful 
vile creatures they are, and smile all the time. 

"However, there are some that make these complaints in a 



EDWARD PAYSON. 161 

different manner, and who appear really to groan under a body 
of sin and death. One person, who was esteemed by Mr. K. 
and the whole church, and myself too, not only a Christian, but 
a very eminent one, of whose religion I had not the least doubt, 
and who appeared to be very humble and broken-hearted, and, 
in short, to be every thing we could wish, has discovered that 
she was building on the sand. She had been a professor some 
time, but had never heard of or suspected the difference between 
holy and selfish love, and is now fully convinced that all her 
love was of the latter kind. As she possesses good sense and 
information, the accounts she gives of her experiences, while 
destitute of religion, are very profitable, and open new ways in 
which persons may be deceived, of which I had scarcely any 
conception. 

"I did not intend to say a word of myself, but I cannot write 
or think on any thing else. I am crushed down, not only into 
the dust, but below the dust, so that it seems, at times, as if I 
must perish. I am obliged to go into the pulpit, to pray and 
preach, with my mind full of horrid thoughts, so that I totally 
forget what I am going to say, and am forced to stop short. 
From this one sample, of which, however, you cannot know 
the bitterness, unless you had been forced to preach in that sit- 
uation, you may judge of the rest. Yet I know it is all for the 
best. It teaches me, I hope, to give the glory more to God, when 
I feel better. Now it seems as strange, if a good thought or 
desire rises for a moment in my mind, as it would be to find a 
diamond on a dnnghill, or to see a gleam of sunshine in a dark 
night. I know it cannot be the product of my heart, but must 
come from some other source; and to that source I wish to 
refer it. 

*' Portland, September 8, 1808. 

'^My dearest parents: Last Sabbath, I preached all day, 
administered the sacrament, catechised the children, and spent 
the evening in conversation ; and yet, instead of being laid up, 
as I feared, T am fall as well, if not better than before. Things 
still remain pretty much the same as they were. A great many 
seem to be somewhat alarmed, but I see none of those deep 
convictions of sin which I used to see; it is only the mere work- 
ings of natural fear. Two persons, however, who had entirely 

VOL. L 21 



162 MEMOIR OF 

lost their convictions, have had them return more strongly than 
ever; so that we are not entirely deserted. People seem to be 
a little better reconciled to the truth, and several, who threatened 
to leave the parish, still remain quiet ; but whether their quiet- 
ness proceeds from mere stupidity, or from a conviction of the 
truth, I know not. The church seem to feel the general dead- 
uess; and, as to myself, I seem palsied to all good, though pride, 
or selfishness, or habit, still keeps me in motion. I have had 
far more distressing experience of the dreadful depravity of my 
nature, since I left home, than ever before. O the heights and 
depths, the lengths and breadths, of wickedness, in the depraved 
heart! If complaining to man was of service, what a torrent 
of complaint could I pour out ! But it will not avail. 

Sept. 14. 

" Mr. C, a young gentleman of independent fortune, is now 
preaching in the old parish. He has been studying divinity in 
Scotland, and preaches the doctrines of the gospel in a clear, 
distinguishing manner. As his sentiments were known before 
he came, everything was said, to take oflf the effect of his 
preaching, which could be said. They cannot, however, accuse 
him of interested motives in preaching ; and, as he is quite a 
gentleman in his manners, I hope he will lessen the prejudices 
of some of his fashionable hearers against the gospel. 

" We have had three additions to the church, since my return, 
of persons who gave very satisfactory evidence ; and there are 
a few other gleanings of our late harvest, that are not yet gath- 
ered in ; but. otherwise, we are in a most stupid state. If I 
now and then feel a spark of life, the moment I go abroad 
among my people, it goes out, and I always come home quite 
discouraged. I cannot feel thankful as I ought for health resto- 
red. 

Oct. 10. 

" Mr. K. comes back this week, and my hard duty is over 
without any ill consequences. I have had some relief, of late, 
from Mr. C.'s being here, at the old parish, and preaching such 
doctrine as I do." 

In the following letter to his mother is a most vivid sketch of 



EDWARD PAYSON. 163 

the workings of his mind jn his hours of discouragement, as 
well as of those considerations by which he was assisted to rise 
above it. It will be read with thrilling interest : — 

Portland, Oct. 25, 1S08. 

'^ My dearest mother, — I have just received your letter of the 
19th, and like all your letters, it came just in the right time, 
when I needed it most, — when I was sinkmg, fainting under 
discouragem-ents and difficulties. I feel the force of all you 
say. I know I have every reason in the world to feel grateful ; 
but this knowedge only renders me more unhappy, that I can- 
not feel it. Gratitude is a plant that my heart will never pro- 
duce, only when heaven is pleased to place it there ; and wheth- 
er I shall ever exercise one emotion of it again, seems doubtful. 

' God is showing me what is in my heart in a ten-fold clearer 
light than ever before ; and though I know he does it to humble 
and prove me, that he may do me good in the latter end ; yet, 
while he permits, my mind will be like the troubled sea, which 
cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt; and I can no 
more still it than I can still the elements. I know how I ought 
to feel, and I know how wrong it is to feel as I do ; but that 
does not help me to feel otherwise. I know that I am every 
thing that is bad summed up in one, and that I deserve, ten. 
thousand times over, the hottest place in hell ; but till God shall 
be pleased to melt my heart by the returning beams of his love, 
this sight of sin only hardens my heart, and sinks it down iu 
sullen indolence and despair. I well remember those delightful 
seasons you mention ; but I remember them as Satan does the 
happiness of heaven, which he has lost. I cannot help being 
sorry that I ever recovered, * * =^ # * * though I see, 
as clear as the light of day, how devilish and cowardly, and 
base, and ungrateful, such a temper is. I loathe and detest my- 
self for having such a temper, and know that my inability to 
restrain it, instead of being any excuse, only renders me utterly 
inexcusable. I know, too, that all this is necessary for my 
good. I know Christ is near me, though I cannot perceive him; 
and that, in his own time, which will be the best time, he will 
pluck me out of this terrible deep pit, and set my feet on a rock. 
But this knowledge does not prevent my being tossed hither and 
thither, before the blast of temptationj like a leaf before a whirl- 



164 MEMOIR OF 

wind. Meanwhile, I have nowhere to look for comfort, either 
in heaven or earth. My prayer seems to be shut out, though in 
reality I know it is not. My people are raving about my hard 
(Joctrine ; my friends seem to stand aloof, my health begins to 
decline, religion decaying, and all hell broke loose within me. 
While this is the case, what can reasoning or arguments avail 7 
Who but he who caused light to shine out of darkness, can 
bring light and order out of the darkness and chaos of my 
soul ? 

" Your hopes with respect to Mr. C. are frustrated. Notwith- 
standing he combined almost every advantage, such as being 
independent in property, eloquent, pohshed in his manners, &c. 
&c., he had only thirty for to ninety against him. Mr. R. has 
a unanimous call at Gorham ; but he feels afraid to settle, be- 
cause he is not qualified. I tell him to settle by all means ; 
for, if he waits a little longer, he never will feel qualified to 
settle at all. If I had waited till this time, I surely should nev- 
er have been a minister. I should give up now, but, whenever 
I think of it, something seems to say, ' What are you going to 
give up for 7 Suppose you are a poor, miserable, blind, weak, 
stupid worm of the dust, with mountains of opposition before 
you, — is that any reason for discouragement? Have you yet 
to learn, that God has chosen the weak things of the world to 
confound the mighty, and that, if you had the talents of an 
angel, you could do nothing without his assistance 7 Has he 
not already helped you beyond all you dared ask or think ; and 
lias not he promised to help you in future 7 What then would 
you, poor, weak, stupid, cowardly fool, have more 7 — what do 
you keep murmuring about all the time 7 Why don't you glory 
in your infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon you 7' 
To all this I can answer nothing, and so I keep dragging on, 
because I dare not leave off without a discharge. 

'' We have still a few inquirers, and one or two have joined 
the church every communion, which is once a month. The 
church continue to attend private meetings diligently. We 
know of four old professors, who have been building on sand, 
but now, I hope, are on Christ ; but we have still a wretched 
set. One was yesterday found to be intemperate, who has been 
a professor several years. 

*' I am not quite so well as I have been, but am as well as 



EDWARD PAYSON. 165 

when I left home, and might have been better, if I could learn 
any prudence." 

His filial love suffered no abatement in consequence of his 
growing years and increased cares. How eager he was to relieve 
a father's burdened spirit, will be seen in the following letter of 
condolence : — 

Portland, Nov. 13 1808. 

" My dearest father, — Yours of the 1st inst. I received yes- 
terday, and its contents gave me no little uneasiness. I am 
grieved that such depravity should be displayed by one so young, =* 
and that such an addition should be made to your cares and 
sorrows. How I long, how I should rejoice, to say something, 
that would comfort you, my dear father ; something that would 
tend to lighten the burden of life which you mention ! but alas ! 
I am a miserable comforter, and cannot even comfort myself. 
1 have been preaching, to-day, on Isaiah xl. 1, Comfort ye,d:c.: 
on account of some who are afiiicted with various troubles ; and 
in trying to comfort them, I obtained the first drop of consola- 
tion, which I have tasted for many days ; and I would gladly 
share it with you, or rather give you all, if in my power. But 
I dare not presume to point out to you the springs of consolation 
which the gospel affords, and at which you have often drank 
and been refreshed. But if I were writing to another, I would 
ask. What burden can be heavy, to one who has Omnipotence 
for his support 7 Is there not balm in Gilead 1 Is there no 
physician there 7 Is there any anguish which this balm cannot 
alleviate? any wound which this physician cannot heal? I 
would ask, Can he need comfort, who knows that he belongs 
to the friends and people of God ? that his sins are forgiven, 
and his name written in the Lamb's book of life ? Is it not 
strong consolation, consolation sufficient to support the soul under 
the severest trials, to know that you are v/ashed, justified, and 
sanctified, by the blood of the Lord Jesus, and the Spirit of your 
God ? that there is laid up for you, in heaven, a crown of glory, 
an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and which fadeth not 
away ? and that neither death, nor life, nor principalities, nor 
powers, nor things present, nor things to come, shall ever be 

*He refers to a young female domestic who set fire to his father's house. 



166 MEMOIR OF 

able to separate you from the love of God, which is in Christ 
Jesus your Lord ? Is it not comfort sufficient to satisfy even 
the boundless desires of an immortal mind, to know that you 
are a temple of the Holy Ghost, a member of Christ, and a child 
of God ? that the blessed angels are your guards and attendants 7 
that the Holy Spirit is your Assistant and Sanctifier 7 the Son of 
God your Friend, your Shepherd, your Intercessor, and Head 7 
and God himself your Father, your God, and your exceeding 
great reward 7 Is it not enough to know, that your salvation 
standeth sure, and that heaven is as certainly yours, as if you 
already stood on Mount Zion, singing the praises of redeeming 
love 7 Is it not enough to know that all things shall work 
together for your good, through time and eternity 7 and that he 
who spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, will 
with him also freely give us all things 7 In some such manner 
as this I would write to an equal, to one whose progress in relig- 
ion was small, whose trials were light, and whose views of di- 
vine things were partial and confined, like my own. But to 
you, mv dear father, I dare not write thus, for you know these 
things already ; and you have doubtless spiritual trials, of which 
I can as yet form no conception, and under which, consequently, 
I know not how even to try to comfort you. But is it not some 
satisfaction to reflect, that to you and my mother I shall be 
indebted, under God, for everlasting felicity ; and that, if I am 
made the instrument of doing any good in the world, it will be 
owing to your prayers, precepts, and example 7 My dear father, 
how many have all your trials, and none of your comforts — no 
God to go to, no religion to support them, no hope of heaven, 
no divine consolations, to soothe their sorrows in this valley of 
tears ! Do, then, let us persuade you to be happy ; for you 
have been the means of great good and happiness to us. 

'' I dare not read over what I have written, and I am almost 
afraid to send it ; for I write in a hurry, and much exhausted 
both in body and mind, by the labors of the day ; but I write 
with a most ardent desire to give you a moment's pleasure ; 
and though I fear I shall not succeed, yet I hope the intention 
will be accepted. I am imfit to write, for it is very late, and I 
am very sleepy, very much tired, and my head aches ; but if I 
did not write now, I m-ust wait some time, and I know not how 
to wait a single day, without expressing my sorrow for your 
new troubles, though unable to remove them. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 167 

*' My health remains nearly the same as when I wrote last. 
1 am not better, and I know not that I am worse. I shall not 
fail to let you know the worst, as I promised to do. You need, 
therefore, be under no apprehensions that I am worse than I 
represent. The state of religion continues much the same, only 
the line seems to be drawing between the friends and the ene- 
mies of Christ. The word is to some a savor of life unto life ; 
but to many, a savor of death unto death. Many among us 
seem to be literally mad upon their idols; but the church seem 
to be growmg in grace. There is a society among them, who 
have two prayer meetings weekly, besides a monthly fast. The 
young converts, as yet, promise fair." 

Mr. Payson's pastoral labors, during the first year, though 
much interrupted by sickness, were nevertheless successful, and, 
by the blessing of God, issued in an accession of twenty-nine 
members to the church. His sermon, at the first anniversary of 
his ordination, was founded on 2 Cor. ii. 15, 16, in which he 
illustrated, in a very lucid and solemn manner, the propositions, 
that, " to those who are saved, the preaching of the gospel is a 
savor of life unto life ;" that, '' to those who perish, it is a savor 
of death unto death ;" and that " the labors of those who 
preach it, are in both cases acceptable to God." In the appli- 
cation of his discourse, after recognising, with much feeling, his 
ordination vows, and the changes by death and otherwise, 
which had occurred in the society, he acknowledges that their 
conduct to him " has been such as not only to afford no cause 
of complaint, but to merit and excite his warmest gratitude, and 
most earnest prayers and endeavors to promote their temporal 
and spiritual welfare. The patience, with which you have 
borne with the infirmities occasioned by a long and debilitating 
illness ; the diligence and attention with which you have lis- 
tened to the ministrations of the word, both in season and out 
of season ; and the many proofs of kindness and regard, equally 
unexpected and undeserved, which you have displayed, — are 
too deeply impressed on the heart and memory of the speaker 
ever to be forgotten, and will render it no less his pleasure and 
delight, than it is his duty, wholly to spend and be spent in your 
service. But merely to hear the messages of God attentively, 
and to treat with kindness those who bring them, is not 



163 MEMOIR OF 

sufficient ; for not the hearers, but the doers of the word shall 
be justified. 

"Permit me, therefore, to ask, whether you, my friends, have 
done more than this 7 According to the measure of ability given 
me, I have endeavored plainly to declare unto you the whole 
counsel of God ; and though, through an anxious desire to strip 
off all disguise from the truth, and prevent, so far as possible, 
all error and mistake, the speaker may have expressed himself 
imguardedly, and only irritated where he meant to convince, 
yet still it is the truth which he has proclaimed. And we would 
ask you, most seriously and affectionately, whether it has been 
to your souls a savor of life unto life, or of death unto death 1 

•^ -^ -^ «NL. ^ 41^ •U. 

TV" Tt Tt" "T?" -I?* ^ 'IV- 

" Light as it may appear to us, it is, my friends, a dreadful 
thing to trifle with the law and gospel of Jehovah. Nor can 
a greater curse befall a people, than to hear his word, if they 
neglect to perform it. A flood of waters, or a deluge of fire, is 
comparatively a blessing. There are, doubtless, many such 
triflers here, who fully resolve, at some future time, to repent 
and believe the gospel. But on what are your hopes founded 7 
Salvation is now more distant from you than ever. For years 
you have been hardening in sin. Every sermon you have heard 
has insensibly rendered you worse. You have already heard 
every motive, argument and consideration, which the Scriptures 
afford, and heard them in vain. The whole storehouse of 
spiritual medicines has been thrown open for your relief; but 
your moral diseases, instead of being healed, have become more 
inveterate. We can only present to you again the same reme- 
dies, which have already proved unsuccessful ; for the art of 
man and the word of God afford no other. Humanly speaking, 
then, it is evident you must perish. But though your recovery 
is thus impossible with man, it is not with God. Blessed be his 
name ! there is yet balm in Gilead, and a Physician there, who 
can heal when mortal physicians fail. But, alas ! you will not 
apply to him. You will not believe you are sick ; you will not 
be persuaded to seek eternal life. You still go on to neglect the 
gospel ; and perhaps this very warning will prove to some of 
you a savor of death unto death. My friends, how trying is the 
situation of the ministers of Christ, if they have any love for 



EDWARD PAYSON. 169 

their people, or regard for their souls. They are like a man 
placed on the brink of a precipice, to warn travellers, that, if 
they proceed, they will inevitably be dashed in pieces. The 
travellers arrive, listen to the warning, and then, with a few ex- 
ceptions, hold on their course, and perish before the eyes of him 
who labored in vain to save them. 

'' Such, but infinitely more distressing, is our situation. We 
stand at the entrance of the way of life, to warn our people, 
that they are in the broad road to destruction, and to urge and 
entreat them to turn aside and be happy. Many of them hear 
our entreaties with some degree of attention and regard. They 
engage our affections by kind offices ; we labor with them, tell 
them they are deeply rooted in our hearts and affections ; and 
then, in defiance of all our prayers and tears, they hurry away, 
and perish before our eyes, in a manner too dreadful to be con- 
ceived. If this be not agony, disappointment, and distress, what 
is ? The agonies of a patriot, trembling for his country — of a 
wife, watching an expiring husband — or of a mother, trembling 
for a diseased child — are nothing to those which he must feel, 
who knows the worth of an immortal soul, who considers what 
it is to be lost, and yet sees his people perishing before him. 

" O, my friends, my dear friends ! how do our spirits droop, 
and our hearts sicken with anguish and despair, when we con- 
sider, that, notwithstanding all we can do, many here present 
will finally find the gospel a savor of death unto death ! and all 
our exertions will answer no other purpose than to increase, be- 
yond conception, their misery and guilt ! O, ye precious, im- 
mortal souls ! ye spirits, that will never die ! ye heirs of eter- 
nity, hear ! — and obey, ere it is too late, the joyful sound of the 
gospel. O, if there be any avenue to conviction, tell us where 
it lies. Tell, O tell us, how we may draw, or drive, or lead you 
to Christ. Tell us how we may bribe you not to be miserable 
forever. Almost are we ready to say with the apostle — we 
could even wish ourselves accursed from Christ for our people, 
our friends according to the flesh.'' 

VOL. I. 22 



CHAPTEE X. 



His dependence on God ; its influence on himself and church. His uniform 
purpose to know nothing save Jesus Christ and Him crucified. Illusti'a- 
tion. Letters. Resolutions. Increased success. 



The preparation of his first anniversary sermon, from Avhich 
some extracts have been taken, was attended by long continued 
and intense private devotion; and in preaching it, he "had 
much assistance, and many were in tears. " He looked forward 
through the year to come with the same prayerful solemnity, 
which distinguished his retrospect of the past. In view of his 
amazing responsibilities, he went for aid " to the throne of grace ; 
and, " he exclaims — "O, the unspeakable goodness and conde- 
scension of God! — did not go in vain." His complaints still 
hung, like a clog, to him, so that his body could but partially 
serve the ever-active spirit by which it was animated. This 
calamity was at no time more trying than when it prevented 
him from preaching his usual Thursday evening lecture. On 
one such evening he makes this record: — 

^'Dec. 30. Had a sweet season in prayer this morning ; and 
felt fervent love to my Saviour, and desires that he might be 
glorified. Was much assisted in writing upon a subject, which 
led me to insist upon the constraining power of Christ's love; 
and, blessed be God, I was enabled in some measure to feel my 
subject. Was prevented from preaching by the weather, and 
the state of my health; which was a great disappointment. " 

It was Mr. Payson's uniform, if not invariable practice, to 



EDWARD PAY SON. 171 

use a written sermon on one part of every Sabbath ; and yet it 
is worthy of particular observation, how much he sought and 
vahied divine assistance in preaching. His dependence on the 
Spirit's aid was, apparently, as real and exclusive as if he had 
made no previous preparation. He was greatly distressed, when 
engaged in pronouncing a discourse, unaccompanied with a 
consciousness of such assistance ; and proportionately grateful 
Avhen favored with it. A single extract will exhibit his feelings 
on this subject : — 

"Sabbath. Preached without the least apparent assis- 



tance. Was so distressed, that I left the sermon unfinished, and 
felt as if the people would leave the house. Went home feeling 
ashamed to look any body in the face. Was ready to give up 
in despair; .... and had scarcely any hope that I should ever 
again behold the light of God's countenance. Yet such is the 
inconceivable goodness of God to his perverse and froward 
children, that he was pleased, even then, to melt my stubborn 
heart with the displays of his love. Felt so overwhelmed with 
a sense of his goodness and my own ingratitude, that I could 
not look up, or hardly venture to throw myself at his feet. My 
heart Avas broken within me, to think that I should still ungrate- 
fully requite such infinite goodness." 

If this reliance on God for help in preaching was not peculiar 
to him, but common — as it probably is in a degree — to every 
evangelical minister, the knowledge of the fact may, perhaps, 
weaken, if it does not remove the prejudice, which exists in 
many minds against any use of "notes" by a preacher. 

His diary, during this winter, bears the marks of a rapidly 
advancing maturity in the Christian life. Who would not em- 
ulate the state of mind which is thus described ! — 

"Was favored with clear views of the matchless good- 



ness of Christ, and my own vileness. Was so overwhelmed and 
astonished, that he should again look upon me with favor, that 
T could scarce believe it possible. Seemed to be drawn away 
from self, and to feel more desire that God should be glorified 
than that I should be happy. This is the only heaven I aspire 
to; and to have such a temper appeared more desirable than 



172 MEMOIR OF 

ten thousand worlds. Felt sweetly broken-hearted and grieved 
to think how I had sinned against such a Saviour, and thought 
I should be willing to undergo any sufferings, if I might never 
offend him again. Longed to see him glorified by others ; for I 
almost despaired of ever glorifying him myself. " 

And who, that reads the following, and is informed that sim- 
ilar records continue to occur at short intervals, will any longer 
wonder that success crowned his labors? The first extract 
shows, that the duties which he urged on others were first prac- 
tised by himself: — 

"Jan. 2, 1809. Rose very early and enjoyed a sweet season 
in secret prayer. Spent the day in visiting. In the evening, felt 
the worth of souls lie with peculiar weight upon my mind, and 
was enabled to wrestle fervently for divine influence. 

"Jan. 3. Was favored this morning with such a view of the 
worth of souls, that I could not rest at home, but went out to 
visit my people, and stir up the members of the church to pray 
for divine influences. Never felt such love for the people of God, 
as this day. Seemed willing to wash their feet, or perform the 
lowest offices, because they belonged to Christ. Longed, all 
day, to do something for the glory of God and the conversion of 
sinners. Wished for health, that I might employ my time for 
God." 

A heart so intent upon seeking the salvation of men, might 
well be supposed to dictate language like the following, when 
the tenement in which it was lodged was too feeble to be remov- 
ed from its resting-place : — 

"Jan. 7. During the past week, the word of the Lord has 
been like a fire shut up in my bones. I long to preach, but 
cannot. O that I may be patient and resigned." 

The minister who furnishes appropriate employment for the 
members of his church, performs one of the most useful servi- 
ces connected with human agency, and is the least likely to la- 
bor in vain, and spend his strength for nought. A conviction of 
personal responsibility for the prosperity of religion, deeply fixed 



EDWARD PAYSON. 173 

in the heart of every private Christian — a responsibility which 
all are but too ready to throw off upon their minister — will, it' 
any thing can, render them circumspect, "instant in prayer.'* 
and, "always abounding in the work of the Lord. " It is one 
of the best preparations for hearing the word with profit : for 
with it they will listen, not to cavil, not to be amused, but for 
edification, and that they may learn "what the Lord would have 
them do." The pastor, who is sustained by the daily fervent 
prayers of his flock, and by their frequent united prayers, has 
a ground for encouragement and hope, that will not fail him. 
The Spirit will not leave that people unvisited, who so appreci- 
ate his influences, as to seek them daily with ardor of desire, 
and to whom their descent would be as welcome, and as refresh- 
ing, " as cold waters to a thirsty soul." It was, therefore, a 
well-advised step in Mr. Payson, to engage the prayers of the 
church for a blessing on the word dispensed by him, and for a 
general revival of religion. The great importance of the duty 
justified his special exertions to secure its performance, and both 
he and they had much reason to rejoice in the issue. 

"Portland, Jan. 10, 1809. 
"My dearest mother: — I have been for some time, endea ve- 
ering to establish among us what are called "Aaron and Hur 
societies, " i. e. little collections of four, five, or more persons, 
to meet before service on Sabbath morning, and spend an hour 
in praying for a blessing on the minister and ordinances. They 
began new year's day, and we seemed to have an immediate 
answer; for the meeting was unusually solemn, and we have 
reason to hope the word was not preached in vain. Our hopes 
of another revival are increasing, as there seems to be an unus- 
ual spirit of prayer, and several persons have lately been awa- 
kened. However, God's ways are not as our ways, and we may 
be disappointed. Indeed, it seems impossible to me, that there 
should be any attention, so long as I am here. I am harassed 
with such violent temptations, from morning till night, and from 
night till morning, with scarce a moment's intermission, that I 
am utterly weary of life, and ready to despair. It seems as if 
I must one day perish by the hands of this accursed Saul, which 
seeks to destroy me. When 1 have a moment's ease, the word 
of the Lord is like a fire shut up in my bones, and it seems as 



174 MEMOIR OF 

if I must preach, if I die for it, even to stocks and stones, if men 
will not hear; and yet I can only preach once on the Sabbath, 
and am obliged to refrain all the week. This sets melancholy 
at work, and gives the adversary great advantage over me. 
Yet I appear to know it is all right and necessary; but this 
knowledge does not comfort and strengthen me as it ought. 
Truly the righteous scarcely are saved ; and we must through 
much tribulation enter into the kmgdom of God. Still, howev- 
er, externally, my cup runs over with blessings. My people are 
so kind, it makes me utterly ashamed, and Mr. K. is like a father 
to me in every thing. But, instead of feeling grateful, and being 
able to glorify God for his goodness, I am so overwhelmed with 
temptations, that I can do nothing but sit still and tremble, lest 
they hurry me into some open sin, which will bring dishonor 
on the cross. O, my dearest mother, do pity me, and pray for 
me; for I am sifted like wheat." 

The customs of society often render a minister's presence 
unavoidable on public occasions or celebrations of a nature not 
easily defined, but which are of a mixed character, partly secu- 
lar, and partly religious. But Mr. Payson would never degrade 
his official character. Wherever he was present, there the am- 
bassador of Christ " stood confest." He never would consent 
to be the mere amusing companion, or entertaining speaker. 
Those whom he addressed, whatever the occasion, were remind- 
ed that they were probationers for eternity. Very pleasing evi- 
dence of this has been found in some copious remnants of a 
performance^ which, in March of this year, he addressed to a 
Musical Society. Who would look for a proof of the existence 
and perfections of God on such an occasion? for a history of the 
apostacy of angels — of the fall and recovery of man — and of 
the ultimate destination and employment of redeemed sinners ? 
Yet all this, "in strains as sweet as angels use," was wrought 
into an address on music. Were it his object to pronounce an 
encomium on Music, he might, he observes in the introduction, 
from the ample materials furnished by orators, poets, historians, 
and philosophers, of past ages, "easily compose a rich and un- 
fading wreath of applause, wath which to encircle and adorn 
her brows." But, 

"Without resorting to the hyperbolical expressions of poetry. 



EDWARD PAYS ON. 175 

or to the dreams and fables of pagan mythology, to the wonders 
said to be performed by the lyre of Amphion, and the harp of 
Orpheus, — I might place before you the prophet of Jehovah, 
composing his ruffled spirits by the soothing influence of music, 
that he might be suitably prepared to receive a message from 
the Lord of Hosts I might present to your view the evil 
spirit, by which jealous and melancholy Saul was afflicted, fly- 
ing, baffled and defeated, from the animating and harmonious 
tones of David's harp. I might show you the same David, the 
defender and avenger of his flock, the champion and bulwark 
of his country, the conqueror of Goliath, the greatest warrior 
and monarch of his age, laying down the sword and the scep- 
tre to take up his harp, and exchanging the titles of victor and 
king for the more honorable title of the sweet Psalmist of 

Israel But I appear not before you as Tier advocate ; 

for in that character my exertions would be superfluous. She 
is present to speak for herself, and assert her own claims to 
our notice and approbation. You have heard her voice in the 
performances of this evening ; and those of you, whom the God 
of nature has favored with a capacity of feeling and under- 
standing her eloquent language, will, I trust, acknoweledge that 
she has pleaded her own cause with triumphant success ; has 
given sensible demonstration, that she can speak, not only to 
the ear, but to the heart; and that she possesses irresistible 
power to soothe, delight, and fascinate the soul. Nor was it to 
the senses alone that she spake; but w^hile, in harmonious 
sounds she maintained her claims, and asserted her powers; in 
a still and small, but convincing voice, she addressed herself 
directly to reason and conscience, proclaiming the most solemn 
and important truths ; truths v/hich perhaps some of you did 
Xiot hear or regard, but which deserve and demand our most 

serious attention With the same irresistible evidence as if 

an angel had spoken from heaven, she said. There is a God, 
and that God is good and benevolent. For, my friends, who 
but God could have tuned the human voice, and given harmony 
to sounds 7 Who, but a good and benevolent God, would have 
given us senses capable of perceiving and enjoying this harmo- 
ny? Who, but such a being, would have opened a way through 
the ear, for its passage to the soul? Could blind chance have 
produced these wonders of wisdom? or a malignant being, 



176 MEMOIR OF 

these miracles of goodness? Could they have caused this ad- 
mirable fitness between harmony of sounds, and the organs of 
sense by which it is perceived 1 No. They would have either 
given us no senses, or left them imperfect, or rendered every 
sound discordant and harsh. With the utmost propriety, there- 
fore, may Jehovah ask, Who hath made man's mouth, and 
planted the ear? Have not I, the Lord? With the utmost 
justice, also, may he demand of us, that all our musical powers 
and faculties should be consecrated to his service, and employed 
in celebrating his praises. To urge you diligently and cheer- 
fully to perform this pleasing, reasonable, and indispensable 
duty, is the principal object of the speaker. Not, then, as the 
advocate of music, but as the ambassador of that God, whose 
being and benevolence music proclaims, do I now address this 
assembly, entreating every individual, without delay, to adopt 
and practise the resolution of the royal Psalmist — '1 will sing 
unto the Lord as long as I live ; I will sing praise to my God 
while, I have my being'." Ps. civ. 33. 

He then carries his hearers back to the origin of the world, 
when "every thing was very good," and "all creation harmon- 
ized together. All its parts, animate and inanimate, like the 
voices and instruments of a well regulated concert, helped to 
compose a perfect and beautiful whole ; and so exquisite was 
the harmony thus produced, that in the whole compass of crea- 
tion, not one jarring or discordant note was heard, even by the 

perfect ear of God himself. The blessed angels of light 

began the universal chorus, ' when the morning stars sang to- 
gether, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.'" He describes 
"the music of the spheres" — the part which the heavenly bod- 
ies performed in the concert — and descends, through the ani- 
mate creation, down to the meanest thing that hath life : — 

" E'en the dumb fish, that swam the flood, 
Leape«l up, and meant the praise of God." 

"Of this universal concert, man was appointed the terrestrial 
leader, and was furnished with natural and moral powers, 
admirably fitted for this blessed and glorious employment. His 
body, exempt from dissolution, disease, and decay, was like a 



1 



EDWARD PAY SON. 177 

perfect and well-strung instrument, which never gave forth a 
false or uncertain sound, but always answered, with exact pre- 
cision, the wishes of his nobler part, the soul. His heart did 
not then belie his tongue, when he sung the praises of his Crea- 
tor; but all the emotions felt by the one were expressed by the 
other, from the high notes of ecstatic admiration, thankfulness, 
and joy, down to the deep tones of the most profound venera- 
tion and humility. In a word, his heart was the throne of ce- 
lestial love and harmony, and his tongue at once the organ of 
their will, and the sceptre of their power. 

•'We are told, in ancient story, of a statue, formed with such 
wonderful art, that whenever it was visited by the rays of the 
rising sun, it gave forth, in honor of that luminary, the most 
melodious and ravishing sounds. In like manner, man was 
originally so constituted by skill divine, that, whenever he con- 
templated the rays of wisdom, power, and goodness, emanating 
from the great Sun of the moral system, the ardent emotions of 
his soul spontaneously burst forth in the most pure and exalted 
strains of adoration and praise. Such was the world, such 
was man, at the creation. Even in the eye of the Creator, all 
was good ; for, wherever he turned, he saw only his own im- 
age, and heard nothing but his own praises. Love beamed 
from every countenance: harmony reigned in every breast, and 
flowed mellifluous from every tongue ; and the grand chorus of 
praise, begun by raptured seraphs round the throne, and heard 
from heaven to earth, was re-echoed back from earth to heaven ; 
and this blissful sound, loud as the archangel's trump, and 
sweet as the melody of his golden harp, rapidly spread, and 
was received from world to world, and floated, in gently-undu- 
lating waves, even to the farthest bounds of creation." 

To this primeval harmony, he exhibits the lamentable con- 
trast which followed, when sin "untuned the tongues of angels, 
and changed their blissful songs of praise into the groans of 
wretchedness, the execrations of malignity, the blasphemies of 
impiety, and the ravings of despair. Storms and tempests, 
earthquakes and convulsions, fire from above, and deluges from 
beneath, which destroyed the order of the natural world, proved 
that its baleful influence had reached our earth, and afforded 
a faint emblem of the jars and disorders which sin had intro- 
duced into the moral system. Man's corporeal part, that lyre 

VOL. u 23 



1 78 M £ M O I R O F 

of a thousand strings, tuned by the finger of God himself, des- 
tined to last as long as the soul, and to be her instrument in 
offering up eternal praise, was, at one blow, shattered, unstrung, 
and almost irreparably ruined. His soul, all whose powers 
and faculties, like the chords of an iEolian harp, once harmo- 
niously vibrated to every breath of the divine Spirit, and ever 
returned a sympathizing sound to the tones of kindness and 
love from a fellow-being, now became silent, and insensible to 
melody, or produced only the jarring and discordant notes of 
envy, malice, hatred, and revenge. The mouth, filled with 
cursing and bitterness, was set against the heavens ; the tongue 
v\^as inflamed with the fire of hell. Every voice, instead of 
uniting in the song of ' Glory to God in the highest,' was now 
at variance with the voices around it, and, in barbarous and 
dissonant strains, sung praise to itself, or Avas employed in 
muttering sullen murmurs against the Most High — in vent- 
ing slanders against fellow-creatures — in celebrating and deify- 
ing some worthless idol, or in singing the triumphs of intem- 
perance, dissipation, and excess. The noise of violence and 
cruelty was heard mingled with the boasting of the oppressor, 
and the cry of the oppressed, and the complaints of the 
wretched ; while the shouts of embattled hosts, the crash of 
arms, the brazen clangor of trumpets, the shrieks of the wound- 
ed, the groans of the dying, and all the horrid din of war, to- 
gether with the wailings of those whom it had rendered widows 
and orphans, overwhelmed and drowned every sound of benev- 
olence, praise, and love. Such is the jargon which sin has 
introduced — such the discord which, from every quarter of our 
globe, has long ascended up into the ears of the Lord of hosts." 

He next adverts to the mission of Jesus Christ, followed by 
the descent of the Holy Spirit, to restore harmony, when 
•' those benevolent beings, who celebrated the birth-day of cre- 
ation, joined with tenfold transports in singing glory to God in 
the highest, that there was again on earth peace and good will 
to men, and that the vacancy which sin had occasioned among 
the choirs and armies of heaven would soon be filled by indi- 
viduals selected from the human race, and taught to sing the 
song of the Lamb, by the influences of the Spirit of harmony 
himself. To teach mankind this sacred song, and thus prepare 



EDWARD PAYSON. 179 

tiiem 10 fill the places and perform the offices of those angels 
who kept not then' first estate, is the great object of God in the 
preservation of the world, in its various revolutions, and in all 
the dispensations of his providence and grace ; Avhile to learn 
it comprises our duty here, as to sing it will constitute our em- 
ployment and happiness hereafter. This song, however, which 
St. John heard sung upon Mount Zion by the one hundred and 
forty and four thousand, can be taught by none but the Spirit 
of God." — He then urges the importance of piety in singers, 
especially such as lead in this part of worship, and enforces the 
duty of parents to cultivate musical talents in their children. 
'■Were this duty duly performed, from proper motives, we 
should soon see a sight which was perhaps never seen on earth ; 
a whole assembly employed in singing praise to God. But, as 
this pleasing sight is probably reserved for the celestial world, 
let the leaders in this delightful part of religious worship re- 
member, that if holiness becomes God's house forever — if it is 
required that those who bear the vessels of the Lord should be 
holy — much more is it required of those who are the mouth of 
his people in singing his praise." In a solemn application, he 
carries his hearers forward to the time when '■ every tongue in 
the assembly will be employed in praising or blaspheming, 
every individual be an angel or a demon." 

There is a luxuriance in his style, at the time of writing this 
address, which was considerably chastened in latter years. 
Taken as a whole, the performance, while it was in perfect uni- 
son with the occasion, was admirably adapted to promote the 
great object which was always uppermost in his mind, and may 
serve as a specimen of his talent for making every occasion 
speak with force to the consciences of men. 

Bodily infirmity continued still to cramp and repress his en- 
ergies, and he had already '' been assured by his physician, 
that his complaints were mortal." 

'•April 26. Was excessively weak, so that I could do 
nothing to any purpose. Longed to lay my feeble body in the 
grave, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary 
arc at rest; not that I was weary of God's service, if I could 
serve him with more strength and sincerity ; but my mind sunk 
under the weakness of my body." 



180 



MEMOIR OF 



''Portland, May 11, 1809. 

"The Spirit seems still to accompany the word among 

us, and the attention to religion is rather increasing. Several 
new instances of conviction have occurred lately, which now 
bid fair to be abiding. ^ * t- ^ 

'' We have, this year, twenty tithingmen, instead of ten last 
year, and none the year before ; and are m a fair way to have 
the town reformed, at least externally. Several of the most 
conspicuous leaders in the race of pleasure and fashion have 
lately become more serious, and we are hoping their example 
will be followed by others. The grand jury, also, begin to 
perform their duty, in presenting parishes that have no preach- 
ing, and shutting up tippling shops and bad houses. We are, 
therefore, encouraged to hope that God, by thus removing some 
of our external spots and pollutions, is preparing the way for 
an inward, real reformation. There seems, also, to be a hear- 
ing ear, and our meetings on the Sabbath are unusually crowded, 
and the church seems to be unusually humbled under a sense 
of their deficiencies. The state of my health still continues a 
clog upon me ; but it is a great mercy, and I cannot find it in 
my heart to pray for its removal." 

Before this time, he had felt his hands strengthened by the 
settlement of a highly valued brother over a church in a neigh- 
boring town ; but new trials awaited him, which put the integ- 
rity of his principles to the severest test. With reference to an 
overture, which he could not meet without sacrificing, in his 
own view, his Master's honor, he observes, it was made, 
*' hoping, no doubt, either to stop my mouth, as iEneas did 
that of old Cerberus, with this honey-cake, or at least, to dis- 
cover from my answer how I meant to conduct." He was 
remarkably circumspect in his official conduct, quick to discern 
the purport and bearings of every act on the interests of the 
church, and avoided every step by which those interests would 
be compromitted. 

In the summer of this year, a minister was ordained over the 
first church in Portland. His conduct, in relation to that trans- 
action, has been the frequent topic of very severe animadver- 
sion, and is not, even now, " lost in silence, and forgot." Justice 
to his memory, thereforcj requires that the grounds upon which 



EDWARD PAYSON. 181 

he proceeded should he known. The first reference to the 
affair is contained in a letter, which bears date not many days 
before the ordination, and is in these words: — "One of the 
deacons carne to me, representing it as the wish, not only of 
Mr. , but of the church, that there might be harmony be- 
tween the churches, and that I would give him the right hand. 

I told him that I was much obliged to Mr. , and to the 

church ; that I wished for harmony as much as they possibly 
could ; but that it belonged to the Council to assign the parts, 
and that no one could pledge himself to perform any part, at an 
ordination, till he was acquainted with the candidate, and 
knew what were the sentiments he intended to inculcate."' 
After stating the deacon's reply, expressing his confidence in 
the sentiments and character of the man, the latter proceeds ; 
"I told him, we could better form an opinion of the candidate 
when he came before the Council ; and that I hoped we should 
find nothing in his conduct or belief, which would occasion 
any difficulty ; and so we parted. How it will end, it is im- 
possible to say." 

TJiis is not the language of a prejudiced mind, condemning 
a man unheard, and " taking up a report against his neighbor:" 
but of one who had learned the apostolic lesson, "judge nothing 
before the time." No other course would have been equally 
proper and scriptural. His principles of conduct, in this case 
will bear the strictest scrutiny. Later still, he thus adverts to 
the subject : — 

" The ordination is just at hand, and engrosses universal 
attention in town. — The candidate is a fine scholar, has an 

amiable disposition and has treated me in that frank, 

open, friendly manner, which is just calculated to win me over 
to his side. Add to this, that both his society and mine are 
anxious that the old enmity between the two parishes may now 
be done away, since two young men are placed over them. 
But I hope I shall be able to act as duty requires." 

Here, certainly, was a combination of motives, powerful be- 
yond all others, to influence a man situated as he was. Nothing, 
which he could do, would have so immediately raised him iu 



1S2 MKIVIOIR OF 

the popular estimation, as to have approved and taken part in 
the ordination. The excellent general character, and distin- 
guished attainments of the candidate, which he was quick to 
perceive, and forward to appreciate, the interesting relations of 
the two societies, the almost universal wish, and the equally 
extensive disappointment and chagrin, which would follow 
upon his dissent, and numerous other circumstances, pleaded 
with an eloquence, Avhich it required a martyr's firmness to re- 
sist. But it was not a question for mere feelings to decide. 
There Avas a higher umpire. He had derived his instructions 
from an infallible source, and they left him no discretionary 
power in the case. The same authority had prescribed the 
qualifications of " a good minister of Jesus Christ.*' Nor had 
he forgotten the caution, which, in circumstances of peculiar 
solemnity, had been enforced upon him respecting the exercise 
of one of the most important prerogatives conferred by his com- 
mission. The result of the examination, and of a comparison, 
in this instance, of what was developed with the requisitions 
of God's word, was a firm conviction that he could not co-oper- 
ate with the Council in the ordination. Nor did he, like some 
others, merely decline to act ; he raised his hand against pro- 
ceeding. He did not only evade responsibility on the one hand, 
but he assumed it on the other. His opposition was open and 
manly ; and he found, in an approving conscience, a satisfac- 
tion, which was cheaply purchased by the temporary loss of 
popular favor, and by suffering all the odium, which, in conse- 
quence of that act, he incurred. He thus alludes to it in a 
letter to his father : — 

'' The ordination is over I shall not trouble you 

with an account of the good-natured speeches which are made 
respecting my conduct. You can easily conceive of them, and 
will join with me in rejoicing, that I share the blessedness of 
those, concerning whom all manner of evil is spoken, falsely, 
for Christ's sake. It Avill only be a nine days' wonder to the 
good folks and gossips, who will lament, in very pathetic 
strains, that Mr. Payson should have such bigoted, narrow, 
party views, and that there cannot be harmou)^ and peace be- 
tween the two churches." 



I 



EDWARD PAYSON. 183 

Time, instead of reversing, has confirmed the correctness of 
his decision. The difference between his creed and that which 
he opposed, is now generally admitted, by the adherents of 
both, to be as wide as Mr. Payson made it. He was a magnan- 
imous opponent, who did not allow a difference of opinion to 
interrupt "the charities of life ;" and his conduct in this respect 
was reciprocated. — We now return to his letters. 

'• June 5, 1809. 
" My dearest mother : — You judged right with respect to my 
anxiety to hear from home ; for after the first of your letters, 
giving an account of my father's illness, arrived, 1 could scarce- 
ly rest till the arrival of the other ; and had it not been for the 
approaching ordination, and some promising appearances 
among my people, I should, ere this, have been at home. I 
must confess that I am surprised, as well as grieved, that father 
should persist in preaching, when it is so clearly and indispen- 
sably his duty to desist; especially after the admonitions he 
has given me on that subject. He would see and allow, with 
respect to any person in the same situation, that it was wrong 
to preach. Perhaps my language may appear almost disre- 
spectful ; but on this subject, I am too nearly interested, to use 
the cold language of strict propriety. I cannot be silent ; and 
should the consequences which I fear result from his preaching, 
it would ever be with me a subject of bitter regret, that I had 
not done al] in my power to prevent it. He must desist. It is 
a duty which he owes himself, his family, his people, and his 
God, to desist; for preaching now will be his death; and his 
family and people will repent too late, if they do not prevail 
upon him not to preach again till he is better. Mark my words, 
for I will have nothing to reproach myself with, be the conse- 
quences what they may. If I were at home, he should walk 
over my body, before he could get into the pulpit. Excuse me, 
my dear mother, and plead with him to pardon my boldness; 
but I am distressed with the bare apprehension of what the 
^ consequence may be." 

''July 7. 
•'My health continues to mend, though slowly. I get over 
the fatigue of preaching much sooner than I did, and my food 



184 MEMOIR OF 

and sleep nourish and refresh me, which has not been the case 
till lately. The religious attention appears rather to increase 
than diminish ; but though it is pleasant to see inquirers, yet 
the constant anxiety which they occasion, lest they should go 
back, is exceedingly painful, and wears upon nature. 1 know 
it is wrong thus to take Christ's work out of his hands, and to 
perplex myself respecting events, over which I have no control ; 
but as yet I cannot wholly refrain, though the fault, like most 
faults, carries its own punishment with it. I am at present, 
unless greatly deceived, in the worst part of the Christian race. 
My people love me, but I cannot enjoy their kindness, lest, 
instead of rendering me thankful, it should only feed pride. I 
can take no pleasure in any success that attends my labors for 
similar reasons. I am surrounded with blessings more than I 
should have dared to hope for ; but this accursed sin turns them 
all to poison and bitterness. Were it not for this, how happy 
might I be ! But, blessed be God, this shows me, more and 
more clearly, what an evil and bitter thing it is to forsake the 
Lord of Hosts." 

" Portland, Aug. 1, 1809. 
'' My dear sister : — My time is so much engrossed by paro- 
chial affairs, that, till this moment, I have had no leisure to 
write, and must now steal time from other things w^hich require 
my attention. You can have no conception, unless you were 
present, how my time is taken up. Every moment is mortga- 
ged before it arrives, and, notwithstanding all my exertions, the 
business seems to grow upon my hands ; so that I am ready to 
sit down in despair, and do nothing. If every day was as long 
as ten, there would be ample employment for every hour. I 
find scarcely any time to read or study, and am constrained to 
go into the pulpit with discourses so undigested, that my pride 
is continually mortified ; and though it lies groaning and bleed- 
ing under continual wounds, it will not be persuaded to give up 
the ghost. However, so long as God is pleased to carry on his 
work wdth such discourses, 1 have no right to complain or be 
discovu'aged ; since, the feebler the means, the more he is glori- 
fied. And I hope that, some time or other, I shall learn to be 
willing to be counted a fool, that all the glory may redound to 
his wisdom. But this is a hard lesson to learn. To be willing 
to be nothing, to rejoice to be nothing, that God may be all in 



EDWARDPAYSON. 185 

all ; to glory in inlirmities, that the power of Christ may rest 
upon usj — this is the temper which I pine and hunger after ; 
but, alas ! it appears at a distance so great, that I despair of ever 
reaching any where near it in this world. If we could put God 
entirely in the place of self, consider his will as our will, his 
honor as our honor, his happiness as our happiness, his interest 
as our interest, and pursue it accordingly, how happy should we 
be ! And how happy shall we be in that world, where this will 
be the case, and where the very stump of that Dagon, self, will 
not be permitted to remain in our hearts, as the rival of our 
blessed Redeemer. O, to be holy as God is holy — this is to be 
happy, according to our measure, as God is happy. Strive then, 
my dear, dear sister, strive, wrestle, pray, long and pant after 
holiness. If I cannot be holy myself, yet I long to see others 
holy. If I cannot love and praise the ever-blessed Redeemer, it 
is almost heaven sufficient to see him loved and praised by oth- 
ers. If we could render to him according to his benefits ! — but 
we cannot, we cannot ; we must be content to be, as it were, 
crushed to all eternity under an insupportable weight of good- 
ness ; for even the disposition to praise him for favors already 
received, is a new favor, which still adds to the mighty debt ; 
and the faster he enables us to render back what we receive, so 
much the faster do our obligations increase. And yet, instead 
of praising him, we are constantly sinning. I hope it is not so 
bad with others, but, with respect to myself, there seems to be 
constant strife between him and me, whether I shall exceed in 
provoking, or he in pardoning ; whether I shall succeed in des- 
troying myself by my own madness and folly against his will, 
or he succeed in saving me in spite of myself. But in this strife 
he still conquers, and will conquer. I have done every thing to 
provoke him to leave me ; but he will not be provoked. Ho 
will still return to humble me, and shame me ; and I am ready 
to call on the rocks and mountains to fall on me, and hide me 
from the tender, expostulating, heart-breaking, soul -subduing 
glances of his eye, which fill me with such shame and confu- 
sion, that it seems as if I could more easily endure the light- 
nings of his indignation. Were all his people like me, and 
were justice done upon them, surely they would be sentenced 
to some hell more dreadful than that which is prepared for 
others. 
VOL. I. 24 



186 MEMOIR OF 

'• We have still considerable attention to religion. The 
number of inquirers is upwards of forty, and many more are 
serious. We had hoped for hundreds ere this ; but God keeps 
us waiting, and praying, and still gives a spirit of prayer." 

" Portland, Sept. 22, 1809. 

" My dearest mother : — The attention to religion still con- 
tinues. Last communion, we admitted eleven to the church, 
and next Sabbath we shall admit twelve more. The appetite 
for hearing seems insatiable, and our assemblies are more crowded 
than ever. Many have lately joined us. However, the gospel 
proves a savor of death unto death, as well as of life unto life. 
Many seem to be awfully hardened, and many severe reflections 
are cast upon religion and its professors. 

'' After telling you that religion thus flourishes among us, I 
am ashamed to complain ; for what reason of complaint can a 
minister have, while he sees the cause of Christ triumphant 7 
Nor do I complain of anything except myself. Every earthly 
thing is imbittered to me, and the enjoyments of religion arc 
kept far above my reach. I am overwhelmed by one wave of 
temptation after another. My bodily powers are kept in such a 
continual state of exhaustion, and my nerves are so weak, that 
mole-hills appear to be mountains, and I am ready to stumble at 
a straw ; and when imaginary evils disappear, I find real per- 
plexities and difiiculties, which weigh me down in the dust. I 
know, indeed, that all these things are necessary ; and when I 
am left in my own possession, I would not wish to have my 
burden lightened. At times, too, I am ' holpen with a little 
help,' so that, though cast down, I am not utterly destroyed. 
But how desperate, how inconceivable, must be the wickedness 
of that heart, which draws down such sufierings from the hand 
of the compassionate Saviour, and requires such painful reme- 
dies to heal it." 

" Portland, Nov. 1, 1809. 

" My dear sister : — It is no small disappointment to me, and 
I flatter myself that it will be some disappointment to you, that 
I am under the necessity of sending this inanimate scroll, to see 
and inquire after you, instead of coming myself, as I expected, 
and partly promised. But my health does not absolutely require 
a journey this season ; and my engagements are such, that I 



EDWARD PAYSON. 187 

know not how to be absent a single day. In the first place, the 
situation of the parish requires my presence. The people still 
have a hearing ear, but there is more opposition, more attempts 
to mislead young converts, and turn aside inquirers, than for- 
merly ; and therefore, I wish to be with them. Besides, the 
neighboring ministers are stirred up to more diligence and atten- 
tion. They have lately adopted the custom of keeping days of 
fasting and prayer, and inviting in a number of preachers ; and 
1 have some engagements of this kind, just now, which I am 
unwilling to leave. We have already had three days of this 
kind in three of the neighboring towns, and hope to extend it 
through the whole association. We are just establishing a Bible 
Society, also, and this employs considerable time at present; 
RO that, with these and other things which require attention, I 
am too much engaged to leave home ; and I trust you will not 
suspect my affection diminishes, because I, at this time, prefer 
duty to pleasure. 

'- My hopes respecting increase. He tells his peo- 
ple some solenm truths ; and a lawyer from ^*****j who was 
formerly acquainted v/ith him, says he is spoilt, and that, though 
he used to be a good rational preacher, he is in a fair way to 
become an enthusiast. What a glorious instance of sovereign 
mercy it would be, should God bless that parish with a faithful 
minister ! 

'•The cause of evangelical religion is certainly gaining ground 
in this eastern country. Mr. J. of B., on whom the liberal party 
placed great reliance, has lately come out full on the side of or- 
thodoxy. President A. was thought to be wavering, but he is 

now quite decided; and if Mr. does not disappomt 

our hopes, I think the *^^^^ :^***^* will lose all hopes of lib- 
eralizing the District of Maine. Violent and systematic 
attempts, however, are making here in opposition to truth. 
Pamphlets are circulated to prove that all the hard texts in the 
Bible refer to primitive times; and the new Socinian translation 
of the New Testament threatens to produce mischief; but, 
while the enemy comes in as a flood, the Spirit of the Lord is 
lifting up a standard against him. Within two years, five 
orthodox ministers have been settled, or are about settling, in 
this association, which includes the county of Cumberland, and 
many others preach very different doctrine from what they for- 
merly did." 



188 MEMOIR OF 

His afflictive melancholy had now become comparatively 
harmless ; for, though it did not cease to distress him, its tyran- 
nical power was broken, and it much less frequently impeded 
his mental efforts. There is one allusion, however, to this mode 
of its operation, which is peculiarly characteristic : — " Was 
employed in vain attempts to prepare for lecture. Did nothing, 
all day, but learn the old lesson over again, that without Christ 
I can do nothing. Were I not the dullest of all scholars, I might 
spare my heavenly Father the trouble of teaching me this lesson 
again." 

In his frequent seasons of illness, and his multiplied public 
engagements, he saw cause of danger that his private devotions 
would suffer interruption or abatement. To guard against such 
an evil, appears to have been one object of the following resolu- 
tions, which were adopted, or renewed, near the close of this 
year : — 

" 1. I will, on no pretence whatever, omit reading the Scrip- 
tures, with prayer, morning and evening. 

" 2. When practicable, I will spend one day in every week in 
fasting and prayer. 

" 3. I will allow but six hours for sleep. 

" 4. I will endeavor to redeem the time by being diligent and 
fervent in business. 

"5. I will live more to the glory of God than I have done. 

" 6. I will, every evening, review my conduct through the 
day, and see how far I have fulfilled these resolutions." 

To the pecuUar trials which distinguished this year, the mer- 
ciful Redeemer provided an antidote in the spiritual blessings 
which he bestowed. Under the labors of his servant, sinners 
were converted, and the church was increased by an addition of 
fortv-four members. 



CHAPTER XL 



Permanency and strength of maternal influence — Correspondence — Death- 
l)ed anguish, liow alleviated — Disgraceful incident — Price of popularity — 
Reasons of former ti'ials developed—Letters, &c. 



The reader is not to infer that the subject of this narrative 
ceased to '' give himself continually unto prayer," because the 
daily-recorded testimony of the fact, to which appeal has so 
often been made, is less frequently introduced. This was an 
employment of which he seems never to have grown weary, 
and Avhich there are no indications that he ever relaxed. Ho 
'• dwelt in the secret place of the Most High, and abode under 
the shadow of the Almighty." His accumulated burden of 
cares and sorrows he every day brought with him to the throne 
of grace, and retired thence relieved from its pressure, or strength- 
ened to sustain it. 

•' Dec. 29. Was enabled to agonize in prayer for myself and 
])eoplej and to make intercession with unutterable groanings. 
My heart and flesh cried out for the living God. Felt very 
otrong hope that God was about to work wonders among us." 

How well his mother understood his character — liow sagacious 
she was in her aims at his heart, always successful in touching 
tlie chord that would be sure to vibrate — in a word, how assid- 
uous and valuable a comforter she was — is apparent from his 
answers to her letters : — 

«' Portland, Feb. 3, 1810. 

*' My dear mother : — I do ' bless Heaven' if I am made ' the 



190 MEMOIR OF 

joy of my parents' heart,' and esteem it one of the greatest 
mercies for which I have reason to be thankful. Just before I 
received the letter which contained this consoling assurance, I 
was wondering what such a poor, miserable, worthless wretch 
was ever made for, and why 1 should be preserved in existence. 

But, if I can afford any joy to my parents, or to 

any one else, I think I am willing to live, let my trials be ever 
so great ; and I bless God, and thank you for sending me that 
letter just at the right time. It proved a very seasonable and 
refreshing cordial to a fainting spirit. But methinks I hear you 
ask, ' Why do you talk of fainting, when you have so much 
reason to rejoice and praise God for his goodness 7' I faint 
because I find no heart, in the midst of all his goodness, to praise 
him for it. I faint because, while I feed others, I am left to pine 
in hunger, and am parched with thirst. In proportion as my 
labors are blessed to others, my sorrows and sins increase ; and, 
thongh I am assisted in keeping the vineyard of others, my own 
rmis to waste. I cannot think that any one but a minister 
knows any thing of a minister's trials ; and I believe Paul had 
a peculiar reference to them when he said, — 'If in this life only 
we have hope, we are of all men most miserable.' * -^ -^ * ^ 

" The attention to religion continues among us, and has 
much increased withui a few weeks. It seems to be spreading 
more among the men. There are some favorable appearances 
in the neighboring towns. Last week, and the week before, and 
this weelc, I have attended fasts, in different places, which have 
been observed with prayer for a revival of religion, and am en- 
gaged to attend another next week. 

" I preached yesterday on our Saviour's words to his disci- 
ples — "All power is given to me in heaven and inearth." 
What an animating assurance to his people, when they have a 
strong faith to take hold of it !" 

'' Feb. 8. Was favored with great fervor and freedom at the 
throne of grace this morning. Longed only to be employed as 
an instrument of glorifying Christ, and was willing to drink of 
his cup, and to be baptized with his baptism, if I might have a 
double portion of his Spirit. In the afternoon and evening, 
attended conferences, and was grievously disappointed to find 



I 



EDWARD PAYSON. 191 

''■ April 17, 1810. 
•'Mv DEAREST MOTHER: — I have just received your affection- 
ate letter, and thank you most sincerely for the maternal love 
which breathes in every line. God grant that I may be made 
worthy of all the proofs of parental affection with which I am 
mercifully favored. If I derive any pleasure from the success 
with which our gracious Master is pleased to crown my labors 
in the ministry, it, in a great measure, arises from the happiness 
which I know this success gives my friends at home. Next to 
glorifying God, by doing good to mankind, it is my chief desire 
to be made the means of promoting your happiness. 

* '^ * :^ -^ * ^ 

" My situation is now as agreeable as I ever expect it will be 
on earth; and I shall not be in a hurry to change it. I now 
hear none but religious conversation; every day seems like a 
Sabbath, and we have a little image of heaven upon earth. 
You Avill I know, join with me in blessing our bounteous Bene- 
factor for this fresh instance of his goodness. 

"I rejoice, most sincerely rejoice, with you, and especially 
with my dear father, in the hopeful appearances which attend 
his labors. He has long been going forth weeping, bearing 
precious seed. I hope he will now be enabled to come again 
rejoicing, bringing with him the sheaves of an abundant har- 
vest. I still feel exceedingly anxious respecting his health, but 
must leave it with God. 

"My own health continues very much the same — rather bet- 
ter of late, if any different. I do not expect it will be restored 
till the attention to religion ceases; for it does not answer for 
me to have too many blessings at once, 

" We are still favored with the presence of the Spirit of 
grace, though in a less degree than formerly. Appearances, 
however, begin again to look more encouraging. The young 
converts, who have made a profession, with a very few excep- 
tions, bid fair to do honor to the cause. Some of them, espe- 
Cf*Uy, advance very rapidly; and the mouths of opposers, who 
seek occasion to blaspheme, are stopped. The congregation, 
and especially the church, continue affectionate as ever. In 
short, I am a wonder to myself, and can scarcely believe what 
I daily see of the goodness of God. You will naturally con- 
clude, however, that inward trials will not be wanting where 



192 MEMOIR OF 

outward comforts are so multiplied. I thought, long since, that 
I had endured every thing horrible and dreadful that was ever 
eh, heard of, or conceived; but I fmd that the depths of Satan, 
id of a heart desperately wicked, are not so easily fathomed. 
^) yiesc unfathomable depths, however, only serve to show me 
more clearly tlic infinite heights and depths of Christ's love ; 
and 1 know that he who delivered me out of the paw of the 
lion and the bear will deliver me from every foe, however 
gigantic. It is but a moment, my mother, and we sliall be 
sniging the song of redeeming love together before the throne. 
Yes; our salvation is nearer than we believed^ Every moment 
it comes hastening on, and to-morrow it will be here. Yes ; 
to-morrow we shall be as the angels of God. O for patience to 
wait for the glory which will be revealed, and to endure the 
previous light afflictions, which continue but for a moment ! " 

The affectionate minister has joys peculiar to himself, or 
rather to his office ; and the same may be said of his trials. 
He is the father of his flock, so far as the relation supposes a 
commimity of feeling in their happiness and misery. Incon* 
siderate transgressors know little of the anguish which they 
bring upon the pastor who warns and entreats them to seek 
"the good and right way:" and they undervalue his counsels 
and his prayers till roused by some affecting providence, or 
brought down to the very gate of death, and then there is 
nothing on earth which they so much covet. The case men- 
tioned below is, perhaps, a marked one ; and yet what faith- 
ful minister could not name instances which form no distant 
parallels to this ! 

"May 12. Was permitted to. draw near to God with joy 
and confidence. O how astonishing is his goodness ! A little 
Y\^hile since, I thought it impossible I should ever be delivered 
from the grasp of sin. But he has brought me up from the 
liorrible pit and miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and 
put a new song into my mouth, even praise unto his name. 
Had scarcely fallen asleep, when I was called up to visit a 
dying woman. Found her in all the agonies of despair; and 
her dreadful shrieks pierced my very soul, and almost curdled 
my blood with horror. Prayed, in an agony of spirit, that God 



EDWARD PAYSON. 193 

would snatch her as a brand from the burning. After prayer, 
she was more quiet, and sunk into an imperfect sleep. Came 
away broken down with a load of anguish. 

*' May 13. Sabbath. Rose languid, and exhausted in body 
and mind. The shrieks of the dying woman rang in my ears 
incessantly. Between meetings, was called to visit her again. 
Found her composed and happy, rejoicing in the Lord, and 
apparently resigned to live or die. On examination, found 
reason to believe that she was really reconciled to God, and 
yet could hardly believe it. Could scarcely look upon it as an 
answer to prayer, and still knew not how to avoid considering 
it as such. 

" May 17. Was much enlivened, to-day, by hearing that a 
remarkable spirit of prayer was poured out, last evening, at 
meeting. Could not but hope that the Lord was about to take 
the work into his own hands. In the evening, attended the 
conference for inquirers. Was still more encouraged by hear- 
ing that the Spirit was again remarkably present at a prayer- 
meeting of the church this evening. Felt almost confident 
that the Lord was about to make bare his arm in a wonderful 
manner. Was so much animated and enlivened by this hope, 
that I could scarcely recover sufficient tranquillity of mind to 
pray that my hopes might not be disappointed. 

" May 24. Was excessively feeble all day. In the after- 
noon and evening, attended the conference for inquirers, but 
found only one. Was, at first, discouraged ; but afterwards 
reflected, that it is God's method to bring us low, before he 
raises us." 

"Friday Eve, June 15. 

" My dearest mother : — I arrived here, this afternoon, after 
an agreeable ride, and found a house of mourning waiting for 
me. The young lady I mentioned died last Wednesday morn- 
ing. The grief of the family, and my own feelings, you can 
better conceive than I describe. The pious members, however, 
are wonderfully supported, so that they are an astonishment to 
themselves. The funeral is to be to-morrow, having been de- 
layed one day for my return. 

" Pray for me. My friends at home are much endeared to 
me by their kindness during my late visit. I always feel vexed 
at myself, after coming away that I did not say more on that 

VOL. I. 25 



194 MEMOIR OF 

subject, and seem more sensible of their goodness, while I was 
with them. But, some how or other, it is contrary to my nature 
to tell people how much I love and thank them." 

"July 19, 1810. 
''Grief has a wonderful efficacy, as you observe, in soft- 



ening the heart ; and suffering binds us to fellow-sufferers; so 
that I cannot tell what may be the event. 

" 1 have much new cause for gratitude since I left home. 

The minister at , a smooth, liberal preacher, has been long 

intemperate, and lately fell from his horse into a slough, on his 
way to meeting. He was, on this dismissed ; and as he was 
not the first bad minister the people had been cursed with, they 
have contracted a strong prejudice against the Congregational 
clergy. They, however, wrote to me to come and preach for 
them one Sabbath, if I could, and I accordingly went. I was 
treated with great kindness, had a very crowded, attentive, and 
solemn assembly; and from letters since received in town, it 
appears that not a few were deeply affected, and convinced of 
sin. They are exceedingly desirous that I should come again; 
and unless they succeed in getting a candidate soon, I shall go. 
They are determined to have none come, who are not orthodox. 
If I had health and strength, I might apparently do much good 
by thus preaching in different places." 

The youthful reader, especially if he be a candidate for the 
ministry, will do well to pause over the following instructive 
paragraph : — 

"As you suspect, popularity costs me dear; and, did it not 
afford me the means of being more extensively useful, I should 
heartily pray to be delivered from it, as the greatest of all curses. 
Since the novelty has worn off, it affords me no pleasure; and 
yet I am continually wishing for more, though it feeds nothing 
but pride. If we had no pride, I believe applause would give 
U3 no pleasure. But no one can conceive how dearly it is pur- 
chased; what unspeakably dreadful temptations, buffetings, and 
workings of depravity, are necessar)?- to counteract the perni- 
cious effects of this poison. It is, indeed, the first and last prayer, 
which I wish my friends to offer up for me, that I may be kept 



EDWARD PAYSON. 195 

humble; and if your too great and undeserved affection for me 
will exert itself in this way — that is, in praying for me — it 
may preserve your gourd from the blast and the worm. 

"Mr. R. remains very much the same. His physicians give 
but faint hopes of his recovery. Why am not I cut down, and 
he spared 7 O, I am tired of receiving inniunerable mercies with- 
out gratitude, and of committing innumerable sins without 
suitable sorrow. . . . That word 'rest' grows exceedingly sweet 
to me. O, ' when shall I fly away, and be at rest?' 

*' Tlie work still goes on. Dr. 's church have, in some 

measure, caught the flame, and compelled their ministers, re- 
luctantly, I believe, to set up conferences. They have said so 
much against evening meetings, that it is hard now to set them 
up. But they are obliged to do it; and, to use the language of 
the world, the towm is in danger of growing madder than ever. ' 

Confidence in the wisdom and goodness of divine providence 
usually reconciles the Christian to trials, and sustains him under 
the occurrence of events, which, at the time, are wholly inex- 
plicable. He rests on the kind assurance of his Redeemer, 
'■What thou kno west not now, thou shalt know hereafter."' 
And, though this promise refers him to a period beyond the 
confines of mortality, when the light of heaven shall beam on 
the intricacies of Providence, and put to flight the darkness 
which envelopes them; yet, even in the present world, he is 
often surprised with discoveries of the design and tendency of 
such dispensations, which render him grateful for them, and 
cause him to bless God, who made them a part of his paternal 
discipline. In retracing his path through life, he sees his most 
dreaded calamities connected with his choicest mercies, his 
lowest depression with his highest elevation — and so connected, 
that, without the former, the latter would not have been. That 
which threatened the destruction of his ability to do good, he 
finds to be his highest qualification for usefulness. 

Such are the developments which already begin to appear in 
the history of this afllicted and beloved man. Henceforth the 
reader will revert to the dark shades of the past with more of 
complacency, and cease to look even upon his seasons of heart- 
rending spiritual anguish, as worse than blank portions of 
existence. He suffered not for himself alone; the Church of 



196 MEMOIR OF 

the Redeemer was indirectly, yet largely benefitted by what he 
endured; and many of her members were, probably, prevented 
from making shipwreck of faith, and sinking into irrecoverable 
despondency, in consequence of having for a guide and coun- 
sellor one who had narrowly escaped a similar catastrophe. 
The amount of suffering, which his own mental agony was 
thus the occasion of preventing, will not be known till the great 
day. But, long before he exchanged his armor for the victor's 
crov/n, he could appropriate the language of Paul — "I now 
rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up that which is behind 
of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh, for his body's sake, which 
is the church. " 

'' Portland, Aug. 8, 1810. 

'•My dearest sister: — I have nothing interesting to write, 
and my spirits are so completely jaded and exhausted, that they 
will not bear the fatigue of invention. I cannot spiritualize, nor 
moralize, but must confine myself to dull narration ; and, what 
is still worse, have nothing to narrate. I have, indeed, one piece 
of good news, though you have, probably, heard of it ere this. 
Mr. R. is better, and there are great hopes of his recovery. 
His complaints, I believe, are precisely similar to mine. 

" We go on here pretty much as usual. Satan is extremely 
busy with Christians, and a large proportion of our church have 
been, and still are, exercised with the most dreadful and dis- 
tressing temptations. I now understand the reason of my dread- 
ful trials at Marlborough. Had it not been for them, I should 
have been still more unfit for my present situation, than I am at 
present. Often should I be utterly at a loss what to say or think, 
had not a wise and gracious Master foreseen what I should need, 
and taken measures accordingly. 

"He has been pleased, of late, to bless my endeavors to com- 
fort his tempted and distressed people with wonderful success. 
I often stand astonished at it myself, and seem to look upon it 
as a greater honor and favor, than even to be owned in the con- 
version of sinners. If I can be permitted to do this, I seem wil- 
ling to stay and suffer every thing which he sees fit to lay upon 
rae. But I tremble at what may be the consequence. Those 
who find my endeavors blessed to comfort them, of coarse grow 
more and more affectionate ; and I fear lest they prove guilty 
of creature-idolatry, and thus provoke God to wither their gourd. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 197 

I have warned them of the danger of this in private, and have, 
at last, openly preached against it; but God does not seem to 
bless it to their conviction, and, I fear, we shall both smart for 
it. He is a jealous God, and if his people put a servant in his 
place, wo be to the poor creature who is thus set up against him. 
Pray for me, therefore, and pray for my people. When I ask 
them to pray for me, they only smile, and reply, that I need not 
their prayers. In short, we are all young here, and have little 
experience; and if God does not prevent, we shall rush into all 
manner of extravagance. 

'• Since I wrote last, I have been to preach at a place near 
til is, where they have been stupid almost to a proverb. But I 
hear now, that conference meetings are set up ; the minister is 
roused; and many are earnestly inquiring what they shall do. 

"Another minister, who lives about miles from this, has 

lately rode into town, week after week, to attend our lectures. 
He told his people, that though he had to hire a horse, yet he 
was always amply repaid. He has been very lax, but a great 
alteration has taken place in his preaching and conduct, and 
ihere is considerable attention excited among his people. 

"After eU. this, you will not wonder to hear that I am borne 
down with heavy burdens ; pressed out of strength above meas- 
ure, so as, at times, to despair even of life. All this is necessary, 
absolutely necessary, and I desire to consider it as a mercy; but 
it is hard, very hard to bear. If any one asks to be made a 
successful minister, he knows not what he asks; and it becomes 
him to consider, whether he can drink deeply of Christ's bitter 
cup, and be baptized with his baptism. If we could learn, 
indeed, to give all the glory to God, and keep only the sin and 
imperfections to ourselves, we might be spared these trials. And 
one would think this easy enough. One would think, that Jonah 
could hardly be proud of his success among the Ninevites ; and 
we have, if possible, less reason to be proud than he. But pride 
will live and thrive without reason, and in despite of every reason 
to the contrary. 

"Portland, Sept. 20, 1810. 

"My dear sister: — I thank you most sincerely for your letter, 
which I have just received; but I do not thank you at all for 
the reason which you assign for not writing more frequently. 
It seems, forsooth, that I am so wonderfully wise and good, that 



1 98 M E M O I R O F 

you dare not write to me. My dear sister, this is little better 
than downright mockery — not that I suspect you of a design 
to mock me — but your commendations, however sincere, are 
cutting, very cutting, and I beg you to vi^ound me no more with 
them. Go and congratulate a wretch on the rack upon the 
happiness which he enjoys; tell a beggar of his riches, an illite- 
rate peasant of his learning, or a deformed cripple of his strength 
and beauty; but mock not a vile, stupid, sinner, ready to sink 
under an almost insupportable weight of guilt and iniquity, with 
commendations of his goodness, or a blind, ignorant creature 
with compliments upon his wisdom and knowledge. You are 
ready, perhaps, to look upon my situation as enviable; but if 
you knew what I suffer in a single day, you would fall down 
on your knees, and bless God that you are not a minister. Not 
that I consider it as a small favor to be placed in this sacred 
office, and honored with some degree of acceptance and success. 
I know it is a post which an angel might envy, and I can never, 
to all eternity, bless God sufficiently for putting me into it, and 
supporting me under a pressure of its duties. I would not part 
with the privilege of preaching Christ crucified to perishing 
sinners, and of administering to the consolation of God's afflicted 
people, to be made monarch of the world. But O the agonies, 
the unutterable, inconceivable agonies, which must be endured 
by those who attempt, with such a heart as minCj to perform 
this work ! I shudder with horror, to think of the scenes through 
which I have been obliged to pass, and shrink back from those 
through which I must yet pass before I reach the rest prepared for 
the people of God. It is, however, some comfort, that the time, 
when I shall quit this scene of trial, cannot be far distant. Na- 
ture cannot hold out under what I endure; and I trust that, ere 
many years, I shall be safe in the grave, where the wicked cease 
from troubling, and the weary are at rest. If, meanwhile. I may 
be preserved from insanity, and from wounding the cause of 
Christ, by falling into open wickedness, it is all I ask for, and 
perhaps more than I have any reason to expect. It is a dread- 
ful thought, that no Christian on earth, however holy, huni])]e, 
and watchful he may at present be, has any security against 
falHng into open sin before he dies. As to resolving that we 
will not thus fall, it avails nothing. As well might a stone 
resolve not to fall, when the power which upheld it is removed. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 199 

You will, perhaps, say, We may hope that God will uphold us 
for the sake of his cause. So David might have hoped, Tt 
seemed very important that he should be preserved — and yet, 
how he fell ! And what reason, then, have I to hope that I shall 
not fall? And, if I should, it would injure the cause of religion 
infinitely more than all my labors will ever advance it. " 

The following letter is without date, but cannot be materially 
out of its place : — 

"My health remains much the same. I have enjoyed more 
in religion, since my last journey to Rindge, than during my 
whole ministry before. My distressing exercises have vanish- 
ed — I sometimes hope, never to return; and my thoughts are 
so unusually drawn upward, that I cannot avoid concluding 
that my stay on earth is to be but short. My church are many 
of them of the same opinion. They tell me they are certain 
that I shall not continue with them long. Sometimes I am 
tempted to wish that my expectations may soon be realized. 
At others, I wish to stay a little longer, and tell sinners what 
a precious Saviour Jesus is. But the Lord's will be done. 
Welcome life, welcome death, welcome any thing from his 
hand. The world — O what a bubble — what a trifle it is ! 
Friends are nothing, fame is nothing, health is nothing, life is 
nothing; Jesus, Jesus is all ! O what will it be to spend an 
eternity in seeing and praising Jesus ! to see him as he is, to be 
satisfied with his likeness ! O, I long, I pant, I faint with de- 
sire to be singing. Worthy is the Lamb — to be extolling the 
riches of sovereign grace — to be casting the crown at the feet 
of Christ ! And why may we not do all this on earth 7 My 
dearest sister, we may do it, if it is not our own fault. Pause 
a moment, and try to conceive how they feel, and what they 
are at this moment doing in heaven. Pause and reflect till you 
hear their songs, and feel your heart glow with their love. 
Then shout aloud, ' Worthy is the Lamb, for thou wast slain, 
and hast redeemed me by thy blood. Worthy is the Lamb, 
who was slain, to receive glory, and blessing, and honor, and 
power ! ' But I must desist. 

" Remember me most affectionately to our dear parents; and 
I hope that they and you are willing that I should go to heaven 
first." 



200 MEMOIR OP 

"Portland, Dec. 10, 1810. 
''My dearest mother: — Since my return, it has pleased my 
adorable Saviour, in his sovereign mercy, to give me clearer 
and more transporting views of himself than I have ever before 
enjoyed ; and I have no leisure or thoughts to bestow on any 
thing else. He has brought me up out of the horrible pit, 
where I have so long been sinking, and put a new song in my 
mouth ; and O that all creation would join with me in singmg 
his praises ! I have sometimes heard of spells and charms to 
excite love, and have wished for them, when a boy, that I might 
cause others to love me. But how much more do I now wish 
for some charm which should lead men to love the Saviour ! 
What would I not give for the power to make sinners love him, 
for the faculty of describing his beauties and glories in such a 
manner as to excite warmer affections towards him in the 
hearts of Christians ! Could I paint a true likeness of him, me- 
thinks I should rejoice to hold it up to the view and admiration 
of all creation, and be hid behind it forever. It would be 
heaven enough to hear him praised and adored, though no one 
should know or care about insignificant me. But I cannot 
paint him; I cannot describe him ; I cannot make others love 
him ; nay, I cannot love him a thousandth part so much as I 
ought myself. I faint, I sink under the weight of infinite, in- 
supportable obHgations. O for an angel's tongue — O for the 
tongues of ten thousand angels, to sound his praises ! I would 
fain do something for him, but I can do nothing. I cannot 
even attempt to do any thing without his grace ; and the more 
1 am enabled to do in his service, so much the more is the load 
of obligation increased. O that God, who alone is able, would 
glorify his Son ! This, at present, is all my salvation, and all 
my desire, that Christ may be glorified. For this reason, I long 
and pray for a revival. I long that the blessed Jesus should 
receive some more suitable returns for his wondrous love to 
our ruined race. We are hoping that this will be the case here. 
I hope the church begin to awake and pray more earnestly than 
ever, and that we shall yet see hundreds here praising the ever- 
blessed Redeemer. It seems of no consequence what becomes 
of me. It seems of no consequence what becomes of sinners, 
comparatively speaking. But, O, it is of infinite consequence 
that Christ should be glorified. My dearest mother, do strive 



EDWARD PAYSON. 201 

to love him more than ever. Do strive to make others love 
him. O, if it was not for a hope of doing something for his 
glory, how could we he content to live a single hour absent 
from his presence above ! 

" I shall not wonder if you think me mad. I have been 
madj and am just beginning to see my madness. O how little 
zeal, how little love, have I manifested ! How madly have 1 
misimproved my time and talents ! how Avretchedly neglected 
the all-important work to which I am called ! how ungratefully 
requited the best of Saviours! How often have 1 called his 
love and faithfulness in question, at the very time he was taking 
the best possible measures to promote my happiness ! Now he 
returns to humble me, and shame me for my folly and ingrati- 
tude. O, I know not how to bear this astonishing, overvvbelm- 
ing goodness ! Methinks I could bear his anger — but his love 
cuts me to the heart. O that I may be dumb, and not open 
my mouth any more, since he is pacified towards me for all 
that 1 have done! O that, for the remainder of life, I could 
hear of nothing, think of nothing, speak of nothing, but the 
wonders of his person, his character, and redeeming love ! 
But, unless he prevents it, I shall wander again, and act over, 
not only once, but often, all my past sins. It seems now infi- 
nitely better to die, than to be guilty of this ; but he knows, and 
will do, what is best." 

*'Dec. 16. Sabbath. This day completes three years since 
my ordination. What a miserable, unprofitable servant have 
I been ! In the afternoon, preached, with much difiiculty, 
from Ezekiel, xxxiii, 7-9. Was much affected, and my hearers 
appeared scarcely less so. Came home excessively fatigued, 
but rejoicing in God." 

This year, forty-two souls were gathered into the church. 
VOL. I. 26 



CHAPTER XII. 



Holy aspirations. Gratitude to the Saviour. Multiplied labors. Novel 
femily scene. Danger averted. " Curious frame." Flattery deprecated. 
His marriage. Becomes sole pastor of the church. Retrospect of the 
yeai*. 



*'Dec. 17, 1810. I now commence the fourth year of my 
ministry. Whether I shall live to finish it God only knows. 
O that it may be spent to better purpose than those which are 
passed ! 

" Dec. 29. Felt the blessed effects of casting all my cares 
upon him who careth for me. In family prayer, was most un- 
usually drawn out towards God, and felt as much like an in- 
habitant of heaven as I ever expect to feel here. All earthly 
objects were swallowed up : self appeared to be nothing, and 
God to be all in all. Felt as if my time on earth would be 
short. I was in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart 
and be with Christ, and yet wishing to stay, that I might tell 
others what a precious Saviour he is. But the Lord's will be 
done. Welcome any thing which he pleases to send. 

''Dec. 31. Spent the day in visiting. In the evening, met 
a number of Christian friends, and had a sweet season in con- 
versing upon heaven. Our hearts seemed to burn within us, 
and it was a little foretaste of heaven." 

These quotations furnish pretty fair specimens of his religious 
feelings for several months, excepting those intervals when he 
was greatly reduced and disheartened by sickness. On emerg- 
ing from the darkness of such a season, he writes : — 



MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAY SON. 203 

"Jan. 10, 1811. This morning, God was pleased to return, 
and lift me out of the dust. The great comforts with which I 
was favored, some time since, rendered me proud, and I needed 
a season of darkness to humble me Had much freedom, and 
some brokenness of heart, this morning, in secret and family 
X)rayer, and some ability to plead with God not to forsake us. 
O how sovereign and free is his grace !" 

Under the same date, he writes to his mother : — 

" Last Sabbath was communion with us. 1 preached from 
Zech. iii. 2: 'Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?' 
What a just and striking description of every redeemed sinner! 
and what a glorious idea does it afford us of the work of re- 
demption ! To snatch a smoking brand from eternal burnings, 
and plant it among the stars in the firmament of heaven, there 
to shine like the sun forever — O, what a glorious work is this ! 
a work worthy of God ! a work which none but God could 
perform. Such a brand am I — a brand yet smoking with the 
half-extinguished fires of sin ; a brand, scorched and blackened 
by the flames of hell. What then do I owe to him, who enter- 
ed the furnace of divine wrath, that he might bring me out ! 
who spread himself over me as a shield from that fiery storm, 
which would have set me forth an example, hke Sodom, suffer- 
ing the vengeance of eternal fire. 

" I liave no heart to speak or write about any thing but Je- 
sus ; and yet I have little patience to write about him in our 
miserably defective language. O for a language suitable to 
speak his praises, and describe his glory and beauty! But 
they cannot be described — they cannot be conceived; for 'no 
man knoweth the Son, but the Father.' What a wonderful 
idea does that text give us of the Son ! Saints in heaven do 
not know him perfectly; even the angels do not. None but 
the Father is able to comprehend all his excellence. Yet vari- 
ous, great, unsearchable, infinite, as are his excellences, they 
are all ours; our Saviour, our Head, 'our flesh and our bone.' 
O, wonder ! — how passing wonderful is this! Methinks, if I 
could borrow, for a moment, the archangels trump, and make 
heaven, earth and hell resound with ' Worthy is the Lamb that 
was slain !' I could contentedly drop into nothing. But no, 



204 MEMOIR OF 

I should wish to live, and make them resound with his name 
through eternity. What a transporting thought — to spend an 
eternity in exalting God and the Lamb; in beholding their glo- 
ry, and hearing them extolled by all creatures ! — this is heaven 
indeed. To be swallowed up and lost in God ; to have our spirits 
embraced, wrapped up in his all-infolding Spirit ; to forget our- 
selves, and think only of him ; to lose, in a manner, our own 
separate existence, and exist only in him ; to have his glory all 
in all to us ; this is, indeed, a far more exceeding and eternal 
weight of glory." 

About a month later, he gives this account of their spiritual 
prospects: — "Our hopes of increasing attention begin to revive 
again. Some recent instances of conviction have taken place, 
and we have about thirty very serious inquirers. The church, 
too are more roused, and we have as yet had no scandals, 
among us for the world to take hold of. I cannot but hope, that 
God designs to raise up a church here, which will shine bright, 
and be like a city set on a hill. Satan buffets them sorely ; but 
the more he buffets them, the faster they grow. I hope yet, if 

God pleases, to see seated with us at the communion table. 

It would, I doubt not, rejoice your very heart." 

Some idea of the variety and amount of his labors may be 
collected from a single sentence, which is incidentally intro- 
duced into a letter, dated February 17: — "I preach, or do what 
is, at least, as laborious, six nights in a week, besides talking 
incessantly, a considerable part of every day." It is not im- 
probable, that to his private intercourse, not less than his public 
addresses, the rapid prosperity of religion is to be ascribed. His 
inventive genius seemed to delight in finding out as many 
ways as possible, by which a religious influence might be 
brought to bear upon those to whom he had access. Take 
the following domestic scene as an illustration: it is unques- 
tionably the offspring of his own pious ingenuity ; for it bears 
as infallible marks of its parentage, as the description of it 
does of his pen: — 

'*I will give you a little sketch of our family way of 

living, that you may adopt it if you please. In the first place, 



EDWARD PAY SON. 205 

we have agreed, that, if either of us says a word, which tends 
in the least to the discredit of any person, the rest shall ad- 
monish the offender; and this has entirely banished evil-speak- 
ing from among us. In the next place, we are careful, espe- 
cially in the early part of the day, as at breakfast, to converse 
on nothing which is inconsistent with maintaining a prayerful 
frame. Christians, I believe, generally think they do pretty 
well if they pray twice a day ; but I see not why we are not 
just as much commanded to pray without ceasing, as to pray 
at all. AVe sometimes, however, allow our minds a little relax- 
ation at dinner, by conversing on other subjects than those 
which are strictly religious. At the beginning of evening, before 
the candles are brought in, if I am at home, which is not very 
often the case, we all sit down, and take a little tour up to 
heaven, and see what they are doing there. We try to figure 
to ourselves how they feel, and how we shall feel, and what 
we shall do ; and often, while we are trying to imagine how 
they feel, our own feelings become more heavenly ; and some- 
times God is pleased to open to us a door in heaven, so that we 
get a glimpse of what is transacting there — and this fills us so 
full of impatience, that we can scarcely wait till death comes 
to carry us home. If we cannot get together before tea, for 
this purpose, we take a little time after prayers, before separ- 
ating for the night : and, I assure you, it forms an excellent 
preparative for sweet sleep. But enough of this at present : if 
you like it, I will tell you more by and by." 

^•Feb. 1811. 
— —'• We have been in great danger from fire. It was truly 
of the Lord's mercies, that we were not consumed, with a con- 
siderable part of the town. Just as the water began to fail, 
and ail hopes were over, the fire abated. I was so much 
fatigued by over exertion in removing our things, that I was 
miserably unwell for a fortnight, but am now recovered. Some 
acknowledge the goodness of God in sparing the town ; but 
others are dreadfully hardened. One poor creature, as soon as 
the fire was extinguished, cried out, 'Well, we have got it out, 
but no thanks to Payson, nor God neither.' Another, after 
meeting, the ensuing Sabbath, observed, that he 'did not like 
this giving all the glory to God; but that man ought to have, 
'.it least, some part of the glory of putting out the fire.' This 



206 MEMOIR OF 

is, indeed, the natural language of every heart, but (ew like to 
express it so openly. 

" I fear that religion is on the decline amono^ us. There is 
still, however, considerable attention, and we have had a few 
remarkable instances of conversion." 

''March 1. Had a most violent hcadaclie. and was almost 
distracted; yet was obliged to preach in the evening. Found 
many more present than 1 expected, and was unusually assist- 
ed, and the people were very solemn. Most gladly will I glory 
in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon mc: 
for when I am weak, then I am strong." 

"Portland, March 25, 1811. 

"My dear mother: Satan rages most violently against 

Christ's sheep, and I am almost constantly employed in trying 
to counsel and comfort them, under their manifold temptations. 
However, the more he rages, the faster they grow; though I 
have had serious fears respecting some of them, that they Avould 
lose life, or reason, or both. I now find why my gracious Mas- 
ter has suffered me to be so grievously tormented in times past. 
How miserably qualified should I otherwise have been to speak 
a word in season to them that are weary ! Still 1, 1, 1 ! nothing 
but I's — seven in half a page. Well, 1 don't care — 1 am writ- 
ing to my mother, and I know she loves to hear about I ; so I 
Avill proceed, and tell her about a half-sleeping, half-waking 
dream I had the other morning. If it does her as much good 
as it did me, it won't be paper lost. 

"After a curious kind of frame in sleep, I waked myself up, 
with exclaiming — ' Lord, why is it that thou art never weary 
of heaping favors on im grateful, perverse, stubborn wretches, 
who render thee only evil for good]' In a moment, he seemed 
to reply as powerfully as if he had spoken with an audible 
voice — ' Because I am never weary of gratifying my dear Son, 
and showing the greatness of my love to him. Till I am weary 
of him, and cease to love him, I shall never be weary of heap- 
ing favors on his friends, however unworthy.' These words, 
it is true, contain nothing more than an obvious truth; but 
they conveyed more to my mind than all the books I ever read. 
If you meditate upon them, perhaps they may convey some- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 207 

thing to yours. What strong confidence are they suited to 
inspire, if we realize their full import ! How will they encour- 
age us to ask and expect great things, notwithstanding our 
inexpressible unworthiness ! Never before did the scheme of 
redemption, and the great mystery of God manifest in the flesh, 
appear so great and glorious. While meditating upon it, I was 
wonderfully struck with a reason which never occurred to me 
before, why God permitted Adam to fall. Had he stood, all 
his posterity would have been happy. He would, therefore, 
in one sense, have been their Saviour; and while they were 
enjoying the happiness of heaven, they would have exclaimed, 
'For all this we are indebted to our first parent.' This would 
have been too great an honor for any finite being. It would 
have tempted Adam to pride, and us to idolatry. The honor, 
therefore, was reserved for God's own Son, the second Adam. 
But perhaps this has occurred to you before ; so I will not enlarge. 
"Mr. R. is still in miserable health. He will take a journey 
in the spring. If that does not help him, we shall think him 
irrecoverable. I /ear he is too good to stay long on earth. 

^ n^ "^ -7^ 'ilr T? ^ 

*' You must not, certainly, my dear mother, say one word, 
which even looks like an intimation that you think me advanc- 
ing in grace. I cannot bear it. Every body here, whether 
friends or enemies, are conspiring to ruin me. Satan and my 
own heart, of course, will lend a hand ; and if you join too, I 
fear all the cold water, which Christ can throw upon my pride, 
will not prevent it from breaking out into a destructive flame. 
As certainly as any body flatters and caresses me, my Father 
has to whip me for it; and an unspeakable mercy it is, that he 
condescends to do it. I can, it is true, easily muster a hundred 
good reasons why I should not be proud ; but pride won't mind 
reason, nor any thing else but a good drubbing. Even at this 
moment, I feel it tingling in my fingers' ends, and seeking to 
guide my pen." 

" April 4. Spent the forenoon in writing. In the afternoon, 
attended the inquiry meeting, and was refreshed by seeing a 
number of new inquirers. The Spirit of God seemed to be pres- 
ent. In the evening, attended another, and found one who had 
obtained comfort. Came home exceedingly fatigued, but 
rejoicing in God. 



208 MEMOIR OF 

'' April 5. Had some sense of my own weakness, and some 
longing desires that God would meet with us. Had a most 
solemn, joyful, and refreshing season, and trnst it was highly 
profitable to the church, but was myself exceedingly overcome. 

*' April 6. Was exceedingly happy all day. Enjoyed the 
peace of God, which passeth understanding. 

"April 8. Miserably weak, both in body and mind, and 
exceedingly wretched most of the day. The light of my soul 
was v/ithdrawn from me. O, what a miserable wretch am I, 
when Christ is absent ! It is, however, necessary that he should 
sometimes withdraw ; and I was enabled to realize that it was 
love, which induced him to hide his face, and 1 submitted to it 
without one murmuring thought." 

On the eighth of May, Mr. Payson was married to Ann Louisa 
Shipman, of New Haven, Connecticut, — a woman of kindred 
piety, and whose energy and firmness of character, connected 
with other estimable accomplishments, proved his best earthly 
support, and an abiding check upon his constitutional tendency 
to depression. Female affection and ingenuity could not have 
been better directed, or more signally honored and rewardQd. 
tn the acquisition of such a " help-meet," he justly considered 
himself as " having obtained favor of the Lord." 

It has been alleged, perhaps without sufficient reason, that 
ministers, as a class, are chargeable, beyond others, with fail- 
ures in what relates to this most delicate and important connex- 
ion. The truth is, their errors of this kind attract more notice, 
and are more injurious. But the fact, that the peace and welfare 
of so many, as well as his own usefulness, are materially 
aff'ected by the character of a pastor's wife, deserves the consid- 
eration of all who are still in a situation to profit by it. A 
chapter might be compiled from Mr. Payson's letters, which 
would be of great use to the clerical candidate for wedlock, who 
was anxious to know the best method of conducting the prelim- 
inary intercourse; but the' favored object of his conjugal 
attachment still survives, and her right to the early avowals 
and precious testimonials of his faithful love is sole and 
exclusive. Still, an instructive exhibition of his views and of 
his practice may be made, without any indelicate infringement 
of this right. 

He v/holly avoided those '' entangling alliances," in early 



EDWARD TAYSON. 209 

youthj which have doomed many a man, either to take to his 
bosom one, whom, though once his equal, he had so far out- 
stripped in the career of mental improvement, as to produce a 
most mortifying disparity, and preclude the hope of ever find- 
ing in his wife a companion fitted for rational intercourse; — 
or else, to desert the confiding female, whose affections he had 
gained, — an alternative, too base for an honorable-minded man 
to adopt. Mr. Payson's circumspection is the more remarkable, 
when his ardent temperament is considered; and yet, as early 
as 1805, the following sober views are expressed in a letter to 
his sister : — 

'' When I was at home, I thought you appeared rather appre- 
hensive, that I should form some connexion, which, to say the 
least, would be no help to my religious pursuits. But you may 
lay aside this fear. I have seen so much of my own proneness 
to turn aside, that it is, and I hope ever will be, my resolution, 
not to fetter myself with any voluntary inducements to stray. 
Besides, I think no precept in the Bible is plainer than that 
which forbids us to yoke together with unbelievers. However, 
I think it probable enough, that this resolution may be the 
occasion of my dying a bachelor; but I am not at all anxious 
about it." 

When his purpose was fixed to live no longer '' a bachelor," 
the course which he pursued revealed the source from which 
he always took his lessons. It was as closely conformed to 
scriptural example as that of any modern suitor, — having little 
more of formality than that of the patriarchs of the Old Tes- 
tament. Still, he did not court in sackcloth, as is evident from 
a note, written on returning from his first visit, and addressed 
to his mother, whom, like a dutiful son, he had previously con- 
sulted : — 

" Exeter, Wed. Eve. 

'• My dearest mother : — As I know the deep interest 3^ou 
take in everything which concerns your son, I will go no farther, 
before I inform you of the result of the business on which we 
conversed, while I was at home. I cannot, indeed, go into 
particulars ; but it may be some gratification to you to know, 
that the business is concluded on, and nothing remains but to 
fix the wedding day. On this point alone we differed. * * * 

VOL. I. 27 



210 MEMOIR OF 

^' And now, my dearest mother, you must permit me to exult 
over you a little. When I used to talk of getting a wife without 
losing any time about it, you laughed at the idea, and thought 
it preposterous, impracticable, and absurd. But you see, that 
without going a mile purposely out of my way, or losing a 
single hour, I have found and courted, or rather Providence has 
found for me, a person, who bids fairer to render me happy than 
any other woman I have seen. It is true, many things may yet 
intervene to prevent the contemplated connexion; but humanly 
speaking, it will take place. And if it does not, I trust I shall 
be resigned, and feel satisfied that it is for the best. * =* * 
At present, God seems to have made my way prosperous ; and 
I am more than ever persuaded, that the best way to succeed in 
any of our temporal concerns, is to cast them upon him — have 
nothing to do with them — and devote ourselves entirely to the 
advancement of his cause. True, he only can excite us to 
adopt this course ; but when he does, it is an almost infallible 
symptom of success." 

His mother must have held a pen of rare and various powers 
— as piquant in satire as it was judicious in counsel, and sooth- 
ing in consolation. She might have thought him affectedly 
singular in his notions of matrimony, and directed her strokes 
accordingly. At any rate, he is seen smarting under her casti- 
gation, in the following letter, which, by the way, is a very 
serious one, and shows a heart alive to the danger of being 
diverted, by creature attachments, from the Lord of his affec- 
tions : — 

" I am sorry you are never pleased with me, when I 

write on a certain subject. I fear this letter will appear as little 
pleasing as any of its predecessors. Since I wrote last, I have 

made another visit to A . Circumstances, which I could 

not foresee, rendered it indispensably necessary. I took care 
not to be absent either on Sabbath or lecture day ; yet I felt 
very guilty in appropriating so much of my Master's time to my 
own use. A voice seemed continually sounding in my ears — 
' What dost thou here, Elijah ?' Had it not been for this, I 
verily believe Louisa and I should have taken a trip to Rindge. 
* * * But the idea of forming new ties to bind myself to 
« the world, is dreadful. I thought, at the time^ that I sincerely 
sought divine direction ; but I have since been afraid that I did 



EDWARD PA YSON. 211 

not. However, I know that the Lord reigns, and that he will take 
care of his glory ; and this is enough for me. As to my happi- 
ness here, it is nothing. I neither expect any happiness, nor 
wish for any, separate from that which arises from serving and 
enjoying God. It is but a day, an hour, a moment, and all will 
be over. 

" But, my dearest Mother, how could you write as you 

did respecting the views and feelings which my letter expressed.^ 
It was cruel to banter me so ; at least, if any other person, of 
as long standing in religion as you, had written in such a man- 
ner, I should have been sure she was bantering me, and ridicul- 
ing my weakness. I shall be afraid to express my feelings 
again ; and, indeed, I did not intend to do it then, but they ran 
away with me before I was aware. You talk of my heights 
and depths — Yes, I am deep, indeed, in guilt, and my iniquities 
are high as the heavens. These are all the heights and depths 
of which I know anything. Compared with old Christians, I 
am but a babe of yesterday ; and joys, which to them would 
appear things of course, are sufficient to make my weak head 
run round. It was for this reason I thought my letter must 
appear a foolish rhapsody. But I will not say another word on 
the subject, lest you should suppose I am aping humility." 

The considerations by which he defended himself against the 
fear of possible disappointment, which some communication of 
his cautious parent was adapted to excite, are striking and full 
of interest. To estimate aright his indifference, as to the devel- 
opments of the future, it should be remembered that the negoti- 
ation had already proceeded too far to render an honorable retreat 
optional with him. The pledge "for better or for worse," had 
been virtually interchanged; and the result, whether fruition or 
disappointment, he was determined should subserve his spiritual 
welfare: — 

*'My dearest mother: — lam very sorry you think me so 
heterodox in my notions respecting matrimony; but I cannot 
alter them. * * =^ Have I not the best possible security, that 
all things shall work together for my good. I shall certainly 
have a good wife, and be very happy with her, if God sees best; 
but if he sees a bad wife is a necessary trial for me, who am I, 
that I should object? I should certainly feel very easy about 



212 MEMOIR OF 

my present welfare, did it depend entirely on your good wishes 
to render me happy. How much more reason, then, have I to 
be easy, since it depends on my Father and Saviour! If I 
wanted just such a world as this, for my own private accom- 
modation, methinks I could go and ask it of my Saviour, just 
as freely as I would ask him for a straw. He who refused not 
his own blood,- surely would not refuse me such a trifle as a 
world, which he could make with a word,* if he saw that it was 
really necessary to my happiness. Why then should I feel the 
least possible anxiety about a wife7 or waste my Master's time 
in seeking one 7" 

A few short extracts will be sufficient to show the nature and 
manner of his intercourse with the friend to whom he was 
affianced: — 

— — "After all, we shall be just as much to each other as 



our Maker pleases. He can, and I trust will, render us as happy 
as it is best we should be in this life, and make us a blessing to 
each other. With his permission, I purpose to observe Friday, 
Dec. 7th, as a day of prayer for his blessing upon our union, 
should he permit it to take place. I trust your prayers will 

ascend with mine. 

^ ^ ^ ^ 

'•I was delighted with what you wrote respecting our precious 
and adorable Saviour. You cannot find a quicker and surer 
way to my heart, than by praising and loving him. * * * He 
is worthy, he is precious indeed. To the power, the majesty, 
the glory of God, he unites the gentleness, the tenderness, the 
sympathy of a friend and brother. This is just such a Saviour 
as we need. 

•7^ 'jf •Tr -TV 

••I arrived last evening much fatigued. My journey, though 
qmckly performed, was not unattended with danger. Owing 
to the weakness of the harness, or the carelessness of the driver, 
the horses ran away with us no less than three times, and were 
stopped only for want of power to proceed. For some minutes, 
we expected, every instant, to be dashed in pieces, and my fellow- 
passengers were not a little frightened; but I knew that my 
heavenly Father held the reins, and felt unusually happy. 



EDWARD PAY SON. 213 

"'It is a sufficient answer to your admonitions respecting 

my health, to say, that it has rather improved than otherwise 
the year past; and shall I, then, distrust the power and goodness 
of God, and endeavor, by diminishing my labors, to lay up a 
stock of health for a future period, which, after all, I may never 
live to see? 

* :* * * 

''I have suffered every conceivable kind of spiritual distress 
myself, and have seen too much of the good eifects of it to be 
much grieved when I see others suffering the same. I know 
that Christ is with them in the furnace, and will bring them 
forth as gold ; and, therefore, though I sympathize with them I 
am rather pleased than sorry to see them distressed. ... I 
have long considered a growing acquaintance with the desperate 
wickedness and surpassing deceitful-ness of the heart, as almost 
the only mark of a real Christian, which Satan cannot coun- 
terfeit. '* 

From a union, formed on such principles, the happiest results 
were to be expected. That gracious Being, Avhose blessing they 
had supplicated, more than answered their requests. On taking 
possession of the habitation prepared for their reception, they 
entered on their new condition as a separate family, with special 
acknowledgments of God. "In the evening," says the diary, 
"had a meeting by way of dedicating our house. It was a very 
solemn, melting season. Afterwards, was greatly favored in 
secret prayer. Knew not how to give over praying, the employ- 
ment was so sweet. Could scarcely ask any thing for myself, 
but only that God might be glorified." — He lost no time in 
making his mother a partaker of his joy : — 

"My dearest mother: — I must tell you how happy I am; 
happy, not because I have one of the best of wives ; not because 
I live in the midst of a grateful and affectionate people ; not 
because I am surrounded by an abundance of the good things 
of this life; but because I enjoy God in all these things. 

"We went to house-keeping yesterday. I felt, in some meas- 
m-e, as I wished to feel on such an occasion. It was a blessed 
evening, and this has been a blessed morning. — My dearest 
mother, I must let my heart have vent. — All my days, I have 



214 MEMOIR OF 

grieved, provoked, and dishonored God, and he has done nothing 
but heap favors, and pardons, and honors upon me. O, it affects 
me, to think of his goodness. O that all the world knew how 
vile 1 have been, and how good he has been in return. Could 
Christians know his dealings with such a wretch, they would 
surely never, never distrust him again. And yet I, who do 
know it, shall distrust him again. I shall again grieve and 
provoke him, as in times past, and perhaps, be left to bring a 
reproach upon religion. I never felt myself to be so much in 
danger as at this moment. I am happy in my own soul — happy 
in my external circumstances ; but I rejoice with trembling. I 
dare not resolve that I will not suffer myself to be led away or 
iifted up. I dare not say, that, by to-morrow, I shall not feel 
stupid and ungrateful as a block ; or even full of rage and en- 
mity as a devil. But I never felt more able to hang upon Christ, 
and trust him to keep me up. He knows, I trust, it is my ear- 
nest desire to be stripped of all my blessings, and left utterly 
destitute, rather than be drawn by them away from him. 

''My people have been wonderfully kind. As soon as we got 
into our house, they sent us two cart-loads of provisions, 6cc. &c. 
including every article, however trifling, which could be wanted 
in a family. This was kind in them, but still more kind in my 
heavenly Father. O, may I never forget, that, whoever may be 
the stream. He is the Fountain. 

" And now, my dearest mother, what more shall I say? You 
have nothing to wish for, nothing to pray for, as it respects your 
happy son, but that he may not be rendered slothful, or vain, or 
proud, by prosperity ; that his love and zeal for his divine Master 
may increase with his mercies, and that he may be prepared for 
a day of adversity ; for such a day must come. AVell, let it 
come, if God so pleases. Welcome any thing that he sees fit to 
send. 

'•Notwithstanding your fears, I do not yet love my parents 
one whit less than before. It almost doubles my happiness to 
think of their sharing it." 

On his birth-day, next following this event, he writes : — 

'•The past year has been one of the most important of my life. 
1 have seen much, very much of the goodness of God, and of 



EDWARD PAYSON. 215 

my own vileness. I have formed a connexion which will have 
an influence lasting as eternity, and I have reason to hope that 
the divine blessing has attended it." 

Two letters Avill here be introduced, whose dates would assign 
them a later place, but which are connected with the paragraphs 
just quoted, by the domestic nature of their contents. The 
second is from his mother, congratulating him upon the birth of 
his first-born, and must supply the place of his own reflections 
on that event; for at that time his diary is silent, and the letter 
which bore the tidings to his parents has not been preserved. 

"Portland, Jan. 20, 1812. 
*' My dearest mother: — Were you with us to-day, you would 
see a strange mixture of joy and grief among us. Your letter 
to Grata, especially that part of it which relates to my brothers, 
gave us as much joy as we can ever expect to feel, in one day, 
while inhabitants of this changing world. It made our hearts 
leap within us to hear of poor Eben, or rather rich Eben, as I 
hope we may now call him. But — there must always be a ' but,' 
till we get to heaven — the same mail, that brought this welcome 
intelligence, brought a letter from New Haven, informing us of 
the death of Louisa's brother Henry. She is, of course, in great 
afl3.iction, for she had little if any evidence that he was prepared 
for this event. I begin now to find, for the first time, that, by 
doubling myself, I have doubled my sorrows, and rendered my- 
self a broader mark for the arrows of misfortune. However, I 
am content to meet with a few deductions from the happiness 
which wedlock aflfords. I should otherwise be almost too happy 
for my spiritual welfare. I am fully of your opinion, that mar- 
riage is a wonderfully wise and gracious institution, and shows, 
in a striking point of light, the goodness of our heavenly Father. 
I am also convinced, that, when properly managed, it is no less 
favorable to religion. You will think that I write like a new- 
married man ; and will, probably enough, conclude that, in a 
few years, I shall feel differently. It is very possible that I may ; 
but hitherto my happiness has been continually increasing. "W e 
are much more attached to each other than we were at first, and 
daily see new cause to admire the wisdom and goodness of him 
who fitted us for each other, and brought us together. I have, 



216 MEMOIR O F 

I may almost say. more temporal mercies than I wish for, and 
they are continually increasing; they come without asking; 
but neither by asking, nor in any other way, am I equally con- 
scious of obtaining those spiritual blessings, which I wish for, 
and which seem indispensably necessary. However, I do not 
flatter myself that my present happiness will continue long. 
Perhaps a few weeks will deprive me of her, whose society 
constitutes so large a share of it. God's will be done. I trust 
that he has, in some measure, prepared me for such an event. I 
have viewed it in every possible point of light; and, so far as I 
can judge, feel willing, yes, blessed be his name ! perfectly wil- 
ling, that he should do what he will with his own. * * * We 
shall have your prayers, I doubt not. O how much am I already 
indebted to them! 

''I canjiot close, without adverting again to the blessed change 
you mention in our family. Give my love to E. Charge H. 
and P. to 'strive' as well as seek; to 'repent' and pray — and 
not to pray first, in order to repent afterwards. And urge Eliza 
to follow the example of her brothers, and remember her Crea- 
tor in the days of her youth. '* 

"March, 27, 1812. 
"My ever dear son: — Your last was, indeed, fraught with 
precious tidings: — and we are now to view you and your dear 
Louisa, as sustaining a new, and very important relation in life. 
May gracious Heaven look with benignity upon this dear object 
of your mutual affections, and realize your best wishes in its 
behalf Precious babe ! already do I clasp it in my affections, 
and implore the blessing of Heaven upon it. Great is the fatigue, 
the care, the anxiety, of rearing a family ; but if it is performed 
aright, it is a blessed work. — You have yet to learn how difficult 
the task, and how much patience, prudence, and grace, is requi- 
site to qualify us to be faithful to the sacred trust deposited in 
our keeping. Yet, for your encouragement, and as a debt of 
gratitude due to our most gracious Parent, I freely acknowledge 
myself amply compensated for all 1 have ever suffered or done 
for my Edward. Alas ! I have been exceedingly deficient in 
my duty to my children; but with what ineffable goodness has 
God pardoned my unfaithfulness, and noticed every sincere 
attempt to discharge, in any measure, the important duties of a 



EDWARD PAY SON. 2lT 

mother, and, in some instances, done more for them than I ever 
thought or asked. May he enable yon to receive this Utile one 
from his gracious hands, and, as he requires, bring it up for him. 
You were very kind to write me so soon ; it v/as a proof of 
affection, for which my heart thanks you— but we are looking 
impatiently for another letter. 

"Your good father* put on one of his best smiles, upon hear- 
ing he was a grandfather. ' Ah !' he says, ' what is it ? a son, 
or a daughter?' with other inquiries. He smiled when he 
read — 'babe made the house ring;' and observed, you would 
not want for music of that kind, he supposed. He is in very 
good health, and now attending a conference in a remote part 
of the town. * -* :^ * * 

" May you be guided safely amidst the innumerable snares 
^vhich await our every step, and your path, hke the rising light, 
shine more and more unto the perfect day. Thus prays 

" Your affectionate mother." 

In December, 1811, the sole care of the church and parish 
devolved on him, in consequence of the dissolution of- the senior 
pastor's relation to the church, agreeably to the advice of coun- 
cil mutually called. 

An event of this kind is usually of all-absorbing interest to 
a people, and seldom fails to divert attention from the impor- 
tant concern of personal religion. But such does not appear to 
have been the effect, in the present case, to any very lamentable 

* The father of Mr. Payson, though he appears less prominent in this Me- 
itioir than his mother, was, nevertheless, deservedly ranked among the first 
men in New Hampshire. Lideed, he stood high iu the confidence of the 
rehgious pubhc throughout New England ; and his counsel and active exer- 
tions were much employed in promoting the general interests of literatwe 
and religion. In furtherance of these, he made several long journeys on 
horseback; once or twice as far as Philadelphia, on business for Dartmouth 
College, of which he w^as one of the Trustees. He was also a member of 
the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign 31issions, as was his son 
after him. His various public engagements, in addition to his pastoral duties, 
so engi'ossed his time, that the family correspondence devolved almost entirely 
on Mrs. Payson, who held "the pen of a ready writer." It was unavoidable, 
therefore, that in a memoir, made up in part of epistolary correspondence, 
the mother should occupy the more conspicuous place. 
VOL. I. 28 



21S MEMOIR OF 

extent — the accession to the church, this year, being thirty- 
nine, and the subsequent year, considerably greater than any 
preceding. He closed the labors of this year with a most sea- 
sonable discourse from 2 Cor. iv. 13, "We also believe, and 
therefore speak ;" in Avhich he attempted to state the principal 
doctrines which Paul professed to believe — to show that he did 
actually believe them — that he had sufficient reasons to believe 
them — and that his belief necessarily led him to preach and 
conduct in the manner he did. The sermon is a happy exem- 
plification of ministerial address and of ministerial faithfulness. 
He could not have taken a more unexceptionable method of 
presenting his own views, than by exhibiting what Paul believ- 
ed and taught ; nor more completely have justified the earnest- 
ness with which he pressed them upon his hearers, than by 
bringing into view the momentous interests which they involve. 
To those Avho are familiar with the epistles of Paul, it is hardly 
necessary to say, that his sketch asserts the fall of man, and 
the consequent universal depravity of the human race ; and the 
other doctrines, peculiar to the Christian system, which neces- 
sarily result from this, respecting the personal glories and 
mediatorial offices of Christ, and the way of a sinner's justifica- 
tion and acceptance with God. It was a popular and useful 
defence of evangelical doctrines, and of ministerial zeal, and 
was applied to the auditory with pungent force. 

His diary, during this year, authorizes some inferences be- 
sides that of his spirituality and devotion to his work. A few 
short extracts of each kind will form an appropriate conclusion 
to the chapter: — 

'•July 17. Heard much, to-day, of the rage of opposers ; 
foimd others much discouraged by it. Was driven by it to the 
throne of grace, and there found unusual enlargement in plead- 
ing for the effusion of the Spirit. Never felt more drawn out 
in prayer for this, and could not help hoping that he would 
espouse our cause. Was deeply affected with the sovereign 
goodness of God. 

"Aug. O, what a privilege it would be to have strength to 
labor all the time for God. 

" Sept. 24, 25. Was called up at midnight by some mis- 
chievous person, and sent off to see a person said to be dying. 



EDWAKD PAYSON. 219 

. . . Found it a serious joke to me, for I took cold, and was 
sick several days. 

'' Sept 29. Had a most refreshing season, this morning, in 
prayer. Felt most intense hatred of sin, and desired to be free 
^•om its power. 

" Oct. 5. Have been abundantly convinced, to-day, that it 
is not a vain thing to call upon God. Was remarkably assisted 
in preparing for to-morrow. In the evening, was favored with 
an uncommonly precious season in prayer. O, how ditferent 
does every thing appear, when God is present ! He is indeed 
all in all to me. 

" Oct. 8. Enjoyed a most delightful season in prayer. Had 
such strong confidence in God. from a view of his willingness 
to give, that I felt ready to ask and expect every thing in his 
power to bestow. Knew not how to stop, till I was utterly ex- 
hausted. 

"Oct. 10. Had some diflerent views of Christ and heaven 
from any I ever before enjoyed, so that I felt the fullest assur- 
ance of salvation, and wished to be saved, that I might praise 
and love God perfectly. 

" Oct. 22. Was enabled to cast all my cares on the Lord, 
and felt lightened. Never did the Bible seem so sweet, never 
did the light of God's countenance seem so exquisitely precious 
as now ; nor did I ever more need it. 

" Oct. 24. In the course of the day, saw an Indian. Was 
instantly struck, and much affected with a sense of his wretch- 
ed condition. Never had such feelings before. In the evening, 
had great freedom in praying for poor savages and others, who 
are destitute of the light of the gospel. 

" Nov. 7. Felt a little revived. Set up a little prayer meet- 
ing in my family, for a revival, and had some liberty. 

'• Nov. 28. Had a most refreshing and delightful season in 
prayer this morning. Felt something of the life and power of 
religion through the day. In the evening, preached, .... and 
was uncommonly assisted, and the people appeared much af- 
fected. Felt much gratitude to God for his assistance, and 
much encouraged respecting a revival.*' 



CHAPTER XIII. 



Forms of prayer — Thoughts on public prayer — His sincerity — The impor- 
tance of this quality to a minister's success. 



" You Avould greatly oblige me by loaning me a copy of your 
prayer to-day," said a distinguished lady to Dr. Payson, as he 
was retiring from the house of worship on a memorable occa- 
sion. She was surprised on being told that it had vanished 
with the breath which gave it utterance. This lady was not 
an attendant on his ministry, but had come, at this time, with 
the expectation of seeing La Fayette in the assembly, and, in 
common with many others, was filled with admiration of the 
intercessory part of the exercises, as differing from all she had 
ever heard, in richness and appropriateness of matter, as well 
as in fervor of utterance. Few, it is believed, ever heard him, 
for the first time, even in the family or on the most common 
occasion, without experiencmg kindred emotions. The wonder, 
too, was enhanced, rather than diminished, by every repetition 
of the exercise. To those whose devotions he led for twenty 
years, in the sanctuary, in the conference room, by the sick bed, 
at festivals, and funerals, every prayer seemed to have all the 
freshness of originality. His resources for this duty appeared 
to be absolutely inexhaustible. There was something in his 
prayers powerful to arrest and fix attention — something v/hich 
seized and absorbed the faculties of the soul, and separated it, 
for the time being, at least, from its connexions with "this 
present evil world." The full, deep, reverent, flexible, suppli- 
ant tones of his voice, as far removed from the cant of the 



EDWARD PAYSON. 221 

fanatic as they were from the levity of the witling, contributed 
something to the effect of his puhhc devotions. 

The question has been asked, by more than one distinguished 
minister, since Dr. Payson's death, whetlier he left behind him 
any written forms of prayer. So far from this, it is believed he 
never wrote a prayer. There are, indeed, mterspersed through- 
out his private writings and sermons, numerous ejuculations 
and suppUcatory paragraphs ; but nothing intended exclusively 
as a prayer. His " Confession and Form of Covenant," in a 
preceding chapter, bears the nearest resemblance to a prayer, 
of any thing which has been discovered from his pen, and will 
give a better idea, than any description, of the leading impres- 
sions which his prayers produced on the hearers, namely, the 
infinite disparity which exists between God and the creature, at 
the same time that it brings to view numerous particulars in 
which this contrast may be seen. '' God is in heaven, and we 
upon earth," was the great truth which stood forth with distin- 
guished prominence in his invocations, confessions, pleadings, 
intercessions, and ascriptions. " God is in this place," was a 
truth not less vividly impressed on the minds of his auditors 
when he poured out his soul in prayer. They saw, they felt, 
that he pleaded with a present God. His prayers conformed, 
Avith singular felicity, to his own definition of the exercise, 
which makes it " a kind of devout poetry, the whole subject 
matter of which is furnished by the heart ; and the understand- 
ing is only allowed to shape and arrange the efi'usions of the 
heart in the manner best adapted to honor the Being to whom 
prayer is addressed, and to excite and direct the devotional feel- 
ings of his worshippers." 

But a thousand forms, of his prayers even, could never teach 
another to pray like him. He neither found for himself, nor 
could he mark out for others, a " royal road " to the throne of 
grace ; and the " gift of prayer," for which he was so eminent, 
was not attained without corresponding efl^orts on his part. It 
was by his daily retired practice, that he became so skilful and 
prevailing a pleader with his God. There can be no doubt on 
this point. His journal, through several successive years, 
records repealed seasons of prayer for almost every day, 
together with the state of his affections, and the exercise or 
want of those graces which constitute the '•' spirit of supplica- 



222 MEMOIR OF 

tion." It requires much of a devotional spirit even to read 
these perpetually recurring descriptions of his " wrestling in 
prayer," of his " near access to the mercy-seat," as well as of 
those difficulties which sometimes barred his approach ; for, to 
an undevout mind, they would present nothing but a wearisome, 
disgusting, endless monotony. When the inventive character 
of his mind is considered, its exquisite delight in every thing 
that Avas original, these records exhibit the most infaihble evi- 
dence of his love for devotion. His continuing instant in 
prayer, be his circumstances what they might, is the most no- 
ticeable fact in his history, and points out the diUy of all who 
would rival his eminency. There is no magic about it. " The 
arrow that would pierce the clouds must go from the nerved 
arm and the bent bow." But if prayer, to be successful, must 
be ardent, so must it be not fitful, but habitual. 

If, however, he has not left a form, he has, happily, left 
some thoughts on public prayer, which will be of greater value, 
especially to ministers of the gospel ; and, as in his practice he 
illustrated his own instructions, a stranger to him may obtain 
from them a better knowledge of his manner, than from any 
description of it by another hand. 

" What are the principal excellencies which should be cultivated, and the 
defects which should be avoided, by ministers of the gospel, in the per- 
formance of their public devotional exercises ? 

"The excellence of any performance consists in its being 
adapted to answer the end for which it is designed. So far as 
it is not adapted to answer that end, it must be considered defec- 
tive. The design of public prayer, considered as a part of min- 
isterial duty, is to honor the being to whom it is addressed, and 
to excite and direct the devotional feelings of his worshippers. 
These two objects, though distinct, are inseparably connected, 
and are to be attained by the same means; for it will ever be 
found, that that mode of performing the duty of public prayer, 
which is best adapted to promote the honor of God, is best cal- 
culated to excite and direct the devotional feelings of the hear- 
ers. That our devotional performances may secure the attain- 
ment of these united objects, they must be the echo of a fervently 
pious heart, guided by a judicious and enlightened mind, to the 
voice of God, as uttered in his works and his word. An expres- 



I 



EDWARD PAYSON. 223 

sioii of the psalmist will illustrate my meaning: — 'When thou 
saidst, Seek ye my face, my heart said unto thee, Thy face, 
Lord, will I seek.' In a similar manner should our public 
addresses to God be the echo of his language to us. Our ado- 
rations and ascriptions of praise should thus respond to what 
he has revealed of his natural and moral perfections ; our con- 
fessions, to the charges which he has preferred against us, and 
to the punishments with which he threatens us ; our petitions 
and intercessions, to his commands, his promises, and the de- 
scription he has given of our own wants, and those of our fel- 
low-creatures ; and our thanksgivings, to the favors which he 
has bestowed on ourselves, our countrymen, and our race. 
When our devotional performances thus echo back the voice of 
God, we cannot fail to promote both his glory, and the edifica- 
tion of our people. We then follow a guide which cannot mis- 
lead us ; we express the very feelings which his language to us 
is designed and calculated to excite ; we set our seal to the truth 
of his declarations, say Amen to all that he has seen fit to re- 
veal to us, and teach our hearers to do the same. Thus, while 
we avoid the too common fault of preaching in prayer, our 
prayers will preach, and prove no less instructive than our ser- 
mons. We shall, at the same time, excite them, to pray, and 
teach them how to pray. While we speak as the mouth of our 
people to God, we shall, in an indirect, but most impressive 
manner, be the mouth ot God to our people, and set before them 
their duty, as it respects both faith and practice, in a way least 
calculated to offend, and in those solemn moments when the 
exhibition of truth is most likely to affect them. 

"If the preceding remarks be just, it will be easy to infer 
from them what are the principal faults which should be avoid- 
ed by us in leading the devotions of our hearers. 

*' In the first place, I conceive that our devotional performan- 
ces are too often the language of the understanding, rather than 
of the heart. It has been observed that they should be the 
echo of a fervently-pious heart, guided by an enlightened 
understanding, to the voice of God. It is not, perhaps, uncan- 
did to remark, that our expressions, in public prayer, are not 
always guided by an enlightened understanding; but still less 
frequently, probably, are they the echo of a fervently pious 
heart to the voice of God. They too often consist, almost en- 



224 M E M o ni OF 

tirely. of passages of Scripture — not always judiciously chosen, 
or well arranged — and common-place phrases, which have 
been transmitted down, for a^ires, from one generation of minis- 
ters to another, selected and put together just as we Avould con*- 
pose a sermon or essay, wliile the heart is allowed no share in 
the performance ; so that we may more properly be said to make 
a prayer, than to pray. The consequence is, that our devo- 
tional performances are too oi'ten cold and spiritless : as the 
lieart did not assist in composing, it disdahis to aid in uttering 
them. They have almost as much of a form, as if we made 
use of a liturgy; while the peculiar excellences of a liturgy are 
wanting. Our hearers soon become familiarized to our expres- 
sions, and not unfrequeutly learn to anticipate them; and, 
though they may possibly be instructed, their devotional feel- 
ings are not excited. 

" That public prayer may produce its proper and designed 
effects upon their hearts, it should be, if I may so express it, a 
kind of devout poetry, xls in poetry, so in prayer, the whole 
subject matter should be furnished by the heart; and the under- 
standing should be allowed only to shape and arrange the effu- 
sions of the heart in the manner best adapted to answer the 
end designed. Prom the fulness of a heart overflowing with 
holy affections, as from a copious fountain, we should pour forth 
a torrent of pious, humble, and ardently affectionate feelings ; 
while our imderstandings only shape the channel, and teach the 
gushing streams of devotion where to fiovvT, and when to stop. 
In such a prayer, every pious heart among our hearers will join. 
They will hear a voice and utterance given to tlieir own feel- 
ings. They will hear their own desires and emotions expressed 
more fully and perspicuously than they could express them 
themselves. Their hearts will spring forward to meet and unite 
with the heart of the speaker. The well of water, which our 
Saviour assures us is in all Avho drink of his Spirit, will rise, 
and burst its way through the rubbish of wordly cares and 
affections, which too often choke it ; and the stream of devotion, 
from many hearts, will unite, and flow on, in one broad tide, to 
the throne of Jehovah; while, Avith one mind and one mouth, 
minister and people glorify God. Such was the prayer of Ezra, 
and such its effects : — ' And Ezra blessed the Lord, the great 
God. And all the people answered. Amen, amen, with lifting 



EDWARD PAY SON. 225 

up of their hands; and they bowed their heads, and worshipped 
the Lord with their faces toward the ground.' 

" Leading the devotion of our people in this manner will pre- 
serve us from another fault, less important, indeed, but not less 
common than that which has just been mentioned, and which, 
in part, is occasioned by it. It consists in uttering the different 
parts of prayer in the same tone. When our prayers are the 
language of the understanding only, this will always be done ; 
but not so when they flow from the heart. No person need be 
informed, that, in our intercourse with each other, a different 
modification of the voice is employed to express every different 
emotion of the heart. No one would expect to hear a con- 
demned malefactor plead for his life, and return thanks for a 
pardon, in the same tone. And why is it not equally unnatural 
for sinful beings, condemned to eternal death, to plead for par- 
don, and return thanks for its bestowal, in the same tone ? Yet 
how often is this done ! How often do we hear prayers flow 
on, from the commencement to the close, in the same uniform 
tone, with scarcely a perceptible inflection of the voice ! Yet 
no two things can differ more widely than the feelings which 
are expressed in different parts of the same prayer. Surely, 
then, a corresponding difference ought to be perceived in the 
modifications of the voice. In every other public expression of 
our feelings, such a difference is expected and required. The 
effect of the most eloquent composition would be greatly im- 
paired, not to say wholly destroyed, by a delivery perfectly mo- 
notonous. The effects of the same cause upon devotional per- 
formances will be similar. Where no fervency of feeling is 
indicated, it will usually be found that none is excited ; and, 
since one principal design of public prayer is to excite the devo- 
tional feelings of the hearers, it is evident that a fault which so 
powerfully tends to defeat this design cannot be a fault of tri- 
fling consequence. I am, however, aware, that in attempting 
to avoid this fault, the exercise of great care, and of much judg- 
ment and good taste, is requisite to preserve us from an affected 
or theatrical manner, which is a fault much more to be depre- 
cated. Still, I conceive that when we feel as we ought, we 
shall find no difliculty or danger in this respect. Our hearts 
will then, without any eftbrt on our part, insensibly teach us to 
express its emotions in a corresponding tone, and in the manner 

VOL. I. 29 



226 MEMOIR OF 

best adapted to excite similar feelings in the breasts of our hear- 
ers. But, if our devotional feelings are habitually languid, if 
our hearts do not teach our lips, it is, perhaps, advisable to aim 
at nothing beyond a monotonous solemnity, rather than, by 
affecting what we do not feel, to incur the certain displeasure 
of our Master, and the probable contempt of our most judicious 
hearers. If we have no thoughts or feelings that glow, it is 
worse than useless to affect ' words that burn.' 

"Another fault, which is not unfrequently found in our devo- 
tional performances, I know not how to describe better than by 
saying that it consists in praying more like an awakened, but 
still impenitent, sinner, or more as such a character might be 
supposed to pray, than like a real Christian. Different causes, 
probably, tend to the adoption of this method. Some are ap- 
parently led to it by doubts respecting their own character. 
They often suspect that they are not truly pious, and therefore 
fear to utter the language of a pious heart. Others seem to 
adopt it in consequence of false humility. They fear it would 
be thought indicative of pride, should they use expressions 
which intimate that they think themselves to be the real disci- 
ples of Christ. A third class probably adopt this method with 
a view to offer prayers in which awakened, but still impenitent, 
sinners may join. But, whatever may be the motives which 
lead to the adoption of such a method, it is, I conceive, a fault 
which ought to be avoided. It is, indeed, a common, and, with 
some limitation, a just remark, that a minister is the mouth of 
his people to God. It is, however, of the pious part of his con- 
gregation, only, that he is the mouth. His prayer, then, should 
be the echo, not of an impenitent, but of a pious heart, to the 
voice of God. He should pray with those who are pious, and 
for those who are not so. Instead of praying that himself, and 
those who unite with him, may exercise the feelings of a Chris- 
tian, he should explicitly express those feelings. This is neces- 
sary for his own sake, if he be truly pious; for, if he be so, he 
cannot sincerely utter the language of an impenitent heart. It 
is necessary for the sake of his pious hearers ; for, while he is 
attempting to form a prayer in which all may join, he will utter 
many expressions in which they cannot unite. It is also neces- 
sary even for the sake of his impenitent hearers ; for it is highly 
important for them to be convinced that they do not, and, with 



EDWARD PAYSON. 227 

their present feelings, cannot pray ; and nothing will tend more 
effectually to convince them of this important truth, than listen- 
ing to prayers in which truly pious feelings and holy exercises 
are distinctly expressed. For similar reasons, it is desirable 
that we should not always pray in a manner suited only to in- 
experienced, weak, or declining Christians. Instead of descend- 
ing to their standard, we must endeavor to raise them to ours. 
If Ave wish our people to feel dissatisfied with their present at- 
tainments, and to become eminent Christians, we must accus- 
tom them to hear the devotional language of eminent Chris- 
tians, by uttering such language in our prayers, if, indeed, we 
can do it without uttering what we do not feel. As an eagle 
tempts her young to soar higher than they would dare to do 
were they not encouraged by her example, so the minister of 
Christ should, occasionally at least, allure his people to the 
higher region of devotion, by taking a bolder flight than usual, 
and uttering the language of strong faith, ardent love, unshaken 
confidence, assured hope, and rapturous gratitude, admiration, 
and joy. Some of his hearers can, probably, at all times, fol- 
low him, and many others who at first tremble and hesitate ; 
many, who would scarcely dare adopt the same language in 
their closets, will gradually catch the sacred flame ; their hearts 
will burn within them. While their pastor leads the way, 
they will mount up, as on eagles' wings, toward heaven, and 
return from the house of prayer, not cold and languid, as they 
entered, but glowing with the fires of devotion. In this, as 
well as in other respects, it will, in some measure, be, 'like 
people, like priest.' If we thus strike the golden harp of devo- 
tion, we shall soon find our pious hearers able to accompany us 
through its whole compass of sound, from the low notes of 
humble, penitential sorrow, up to the high, heart-thrilling tones 
of rapturous joy, admiration, love, and praise, which are in 
union with the harps of the redeemed before the throne. 

" Another fault, sometimes found in devotional performances 
which are otherwise unexceptionable, is the want of sufficient 
particularity. Indeed, most of our public prayers, are too gen- 
eral. They bring so much into view, that nothing is seen dis- 
tinctly. It is well known, that, if we except sublime and ter- 
rible objects, nothing affects the mind, unless it be clearly and 
distinctly perceived. If the most admired descriptive poems, 



228 MEMOIR OF 

and those which produce the greatest effect upon our feeUngSj 
be carefully exaniinedj it will be found that they derive theii 
power to affect us almost entirely from a minute and striking 
description of a few judiciously-selected particulars. It is the 
same with our devotional performances. We may praise God, 
or confess sin, or pray for mercy, or return thanks for divine 
favor, in a general way, without being ourselves affected, and 
Avithout exciting the affections of our hearers. But when we 
descend to particulars, the effect is different. The mind re- 
ceives, drop after drop, till it is full. We should, therefore, aim 
at as great a degree of particularity, as the time allotted us, and 
the variety of topics on which we must touch, will allow. Es- 
pecially is it important, that we enter deeply and particularly 
into every part of Christian experience, and lay open all the 
minute ramifications, and almost imperceptible workings of the 
pious heart, in its various situations, and thus show our hearers 
to themselves in every point of view. In a word, our public 
prayers should resemble, as nearly as propriety will allow, the 
breathings of an humble, judicious, and fervently-pious Chris- 
tian, in his private devotions. The prayer of the pulpit differs 
too much — it should differ as little as possible — from the prayer 
of the closet. A neglect, in this particular, often renders our 
performances uninteresting and unacceptable to those whom we 
should mo^st desire to gratify. 

" Such, I conceive, are the principal defects, which are most 
frequently found in our devotional performances. It is obvious, 
that they are all occasioned, either wholly or in part, by a lan- 
guid state of devotional feeling; and that the only effectual 
remedy is to be sought in the diligent cultivation of a frame of 
temper habitually devout. That a minister may lead the devo- 
tions of his people in the most suitable and edifying manner, it 
seems indispensable that he should possess a mind deeply im- 
bued with divine truth ; a mind, into the very frame and tex- 
ture of which the doctrines of revelation are wrought ; and a 
lieart thoroughly broken and humbled for sin, and tremblingly 
alive to the voice of God, and ever glowing with celestial fire. 
He, who, with such a mind and such a heart, lives much in 
liis closet, praying, as the apostle e^cpresses it, in the Holy 
Ghost, and habitually imploring his assistance to help his in- 
firmities, will always lead the devotions of his people in a judi- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 229 

cious, edifying, and acceptable manner ; nor will he need the 
aid of a precomposed form. In his prayers, as well as in his 
sermons, he will constantly bring out of his treasury things 
new and old. But if our hearts will not pray, or teach us in 
what manner to cry to our heavenly Father and Redeemer, our 
understandings must ; and we must either compose or borrow 
forms for that purpose. How far, in this case, we can be con- 
sidered as called to the work of the ministry, or fitted for it, is 
not for me to say; but, surely, he who can contemplate the 
wonders of creation, and yet find nothing to say to his Maker; 
still more, he who can meditate on the mysteries of redeeming 
love, and behold the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, 
without feeling praises ready to burst spontaneously from his 
lips, has some reason to fear that he possesses little of the spirit 
of heaven, and that he has never learned that new song, which 
none can learn but those who are redeemed from the earth ; for, 
v/ith reference to this subject, it may be emphatically said, in 
the words of inspiration, ' the heart of the wise teacheth his 
mouth, and addeth learning to his lips.' " 

Such public prayers as he offered were singularly adapted to 
affect the minds of an assembly, and prepare them for the re- 
ception of religious truths, besides being the appointed means 
of obtaining the influences of the Holy Spirit, ''to render the 
word effectual to salvation. " To his ardent and persevering 
prayers must, no doubt, be ascribed, in a great measure, his 
distinguished and almost uninterrupted success ; and, next to 
these, the undoubted sincerity of his belief in the truths which 
he inculcated. His language, his conversation, and whole 
deportment, were such as brought home and fastened on the 
minds of his hearers the conviction that he "believed, and there- 
fore spoke." So important did he regard such a conviction in 
the attendants on the ministry, that he made it the topic of one 
of his addresses to his clerical brethren ; and most of his remarks 
on this subject will here be introduced, as disclosing one of those 
great principles which formed the basis of his ministerial char- 
acter. 



230 MEMOIR OF 

** The importance of convincing our hearers that we believe what we preach, 
and the means necessary to produce such a conviction in their minds. 

"The importance of convincing our hearers that we firmly 
believe the truths which we inculcate, and that by this belief 
we are habitually actuated in our conduct, as men and as min- 
isters, will appear sufficiently evident from the fact, that, on 
their feeling such a conviction, the success of our labors among 
them very much depends. That this is a fact, will not, it is 
presumed, be denied. When expressing a belief that it is so, 
however, I am far from intending to assert, that a conviction of 
a minister's sincerity in the minds of his hearers is inseparably 
connected with ministerial success. I would not, even for a 
moment, forget that, after every human exertion possible has 
been made, the smallest success is owing entirely to the blessing 
of God; nor that he bestows this blessing as he pleases, in a 
sovereign way. I am also fully aware of the fact, that many 
faithful ministers of Christ, who have exhibited the strongest 
evidence, and produced in the minds of their hearers the fullest 
conviction of their sincerity, have been favored with this blessing 
but in a very small degree ; while not a few of questionable 
sincerity, to say the least, have apparently been made instru- 
mental of extensive good. 

" Still, though I would by no means estimate a minister's 
fidelity by his apparent success, I must consider it as a truth, 
to which all will readily assent, that, generally speaking, no 
minister can reasonably expect his labors to be successful, whose 
life does not exhibit evidence of his sincerity; whose hearers 
are not convinced that he believes the message which he delivers. 
It is too evident to require proof, that, without such a conviction, 
our hearers will not even respect us as men. Insincerity is a 
vice, Avhich, however men may tolerate it in themselves, they 
universally agree to despise and condemn in others; and never 
do they reprobate it more severely, or more justly, than when it 
is found in those who minister at the altar of God. If, then, 
our hearers suspect that we are guilty of it ; if they suppose 
that we attend to our profession merely as a profession, and 
inculcate doctrines on them which we do not ourselves believe, 
they will assuredly consider us as mercenary hypocrites, who 
sacrilegiously profane things most sacred, sacrifice to vanity, or 



EDWARD PAYSON. 231 

avarice, on the altar of God, employ the cross of Christ as a 
ladder for ambition, and consequently deserve to be regarded 
only with abhorrence and contempt. That the existence of such 
suspicions in their minds must most powerfully tend to prevent 
the success of our labors, it is needless to remark. 

"And as, Avhile our hearers entertain such suspicions, they 
.will despise us as men, much more will they disregard us in 
our official character, as the ambassadors of Christ. ' Physician, 
heal thyself, ' will be their secret, if not open reply to all our 
admonitions, instructions, and reproofs. With what apparent 
attention soever they may be induced by worldly motives to treat 
our ministrations, many of them will be gradually led to consider 
the services of the sanctuary as a kind of solemn farce, designed 
to impose on the weak and ignorant, in which we are called by 
our profession to act the principal part; a part which requires 
us to utter things which, as we appear not to believe them our- 
selves, they will feel themselves under no obligation to believe 
or obey. 

" The well known and often quoted maxim of the poet, 

Si vis me flere, dolendum est 



Prlmum ipsi tibi 



is, with a slight variation, peculiarly applicable to the ministers 
of Christ. If they wish their hearers to believe and be affected 
by the truth which they deliver, they must first appear, at least, 
to believe and be affected by it themselves. In vain will they 
declare, from the pulpit, that God is in this place, and inculcate 
the necessity of worshipping him with reverence and godly fear, 
while their demeanor affords reason to suspect, that they are 
themselves totally unconscious of his presence. In vain will 
they teach that men are entirely guilty and depraved, while 
they appear either not to know, or to habitually forget, that they 
are by nature children of wrath, even as others. In vain will 
they preach Christ crucified, while their hearers cannot take 
knowledge of them that they have been with Jesus, and they 
appear to know him only by name. In vain will they, like 
Noah, that preacher of righteousness, wdrn mankind of an 
approaching flood, and urge them to fly from the wrath to come, 
while their people imagine that they are not, like Noah, prepar- 



232 MEMOIR OF 

ing an ark for their own salvation. In vain will they forbid 
their hearers to lay up treasure on earth, while their own con- 
duct excites a suspicion that they mind earthly things; and in 
vain will they inculcate heaven ly-mindedness, or expatiate on the 
joys above, the worth of the soul, and the solemn realities of 
the eternal world, while their lives produce no conviction in the 
minds of their people, that they are actuated by that faith which, 
is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things 
not seen. 'In vain,' says a celebrated French prelate, 'do we 
preach to our hearers. Our lives, of which they are witnesses, 
are, with the generality of men, the gospel; it is not what we 
declare in the house of God; it is what they see us practise in 
our general demeanor. They look upon the public ministry as 
a stage designed for the display of exalted principles, beyond 
the reach of human weakness ; but they consider our life as the 
reality by which they are to be directed.' 

''But it is saying too little, to assert, that while suspicions 
are generally entertained of a minister's sincerity, no beneficial 
effects can reasonably be expected to result from his labors. In 
almost every instance, they will probably be found to produce 
effects positively mischievous. His unbelief, whether real or 
supposed, will ever be urged by his hearers in vindication of 
their own. If he, they will say, whose profession leads him to 
study the Scriptures, and who is, consequently, well acquainted 
with all the evidence in their favor, does not sincerely believe 
their contents, why should we ? In addition to this, the con- 
tempt with which he will be regarded, as a man and as a min- 
ister, will insensibly extend, in a greater or less degree, to the 
truths which he preaches, and to the religion whose minister he 
professedly is. Many of his hearers will be gradually led to a 
conclusion, to which men are of themselves sufficiently prone, 
that all other ministers, in past and present ages, resemble their 
own, and that Christianity is a system of priestcraft and delu- 
sion, invented by designing men for their own benefit, and 
intended to keep the ignorant, weak, and credulous in awe. 

' ' Or, should they not, as will doubtless in many instances be 
the case, think thus of Christianity itself, they will at least form 
such an opinion of the order and denomination to which we 
belong, and be, consequently, led to seek among other sects, and 
even wild enthusiasts, for that religious zeal and sincerity which 



EDWARD PAYSON. 233 

they know ought to be found in all the ministers of Christ, but 
which they imagine is not to be found in us. And while many 
of our hearers will thus be led into error or speculative infidelity, 
a large proportion of those who remain will infallibly become 
practical infidels, or settle down contented with a meager form 
of godliness, in perfect ignorance of its transforming, life-giving 
power. It is in vain to evade the force of these obvious truths, 
by urging the acknowledged maxim, that the Bible is the only 
rule of faith and practice; that to this alone men ought to look, 
and that they are entirely inexcusable in thus con founding religion 
with the conduct of its ministers, and, for the faults of one, 
condemning the other. We readily allow that they are so. But 
still, as has been often remarked, we must take men as they are, 
not as they ought to be ; and to the plea just mentioned, it is a 
sufficient reply, that the principle of association in the human 
mind powerfully tends to produce the effects here alluded to ; and 
that such, in part, ever have been the effects of apparent insin- 
cerity in the ministers of Christ. We are far, however, from 
asserting or supposing, that such effects may not arise from 
other causes ; or that the prevalence of vice and error among a 
people necessarily proves that their minister is unfaithful or 
hi sincere. We know that prejudice often renders men blind to 
the plainest and most unequivocal proofs of sincerity. 

We know that men are naturally opposed to divine truth, 
and prone to hate those who press it upon them with plainness 
and fidelity. We are also aware, that many of our hearers 
scan our conduct with a critical and malignant eye, and are 
eager to discover something in us, which may furnish an excuse 
for their own errors, and justify them in asserting that we do 
not believe what we preach. But it cannot escape your notice, 
my fathers and brethren, that these dispositions, while they render 
it in some cases exceedingly difficult to convince men of our 
sincerity, afford also most powerful reasons why we should 
make the attempt. If they are thus prone to suspect the reality 
of our belief, we must be careful to afford them no real or appa- 
rent cause for suspicion. If they scan our conduct with a criti- 
cal and malignant eye, we must give double diligence to render 
it irreproachable. And if they naturally hate those truths which 
duty requires us to preach, it becomes us to see that their hatred 
derives no excuse or palliation from our temper or practice, 
VOL. 1. 30 



23 4 MEMOIR OF 

They must, if possible, be constrained to feel a conviction, that, 
in declaring these offensive truths, we are actuated, not by mer- 
cenary views, nor by bigotry, moroseiiess, or severity of temper, 
but by an imperious sense of duty, and by a tender, deep, and 
unfeigned concern for the glory of God, and the salvation of 
their souls ; that we are not marking out one path for them, and 
another for ourselves, but that v/e watch for their souls as those 
who know that they must give an account ; and that we habit- 
ually and uniformly seek, not their wealth, their applause, their 
friendship, but their salvation. That it is possible, in most 
instances, to produce and maintain this conviction in the minds 
of men, is evident from facts. That the first preachers of the 
gospel succeeded in doing it, cannot be denied. While they 
were accused of almost every other crime, they seem never to 
have been even suspected of insincerity. They could say pub- 
licly, without fear of contradiction, — for they knew that their 
whole conduct, and even the consciences of their enemies, bore 
testimony to the truth of their assertions, — ' We believe, and 
therefore speak.' ' Knowing the terrors of the Lord, we per- 
suade men.' ' If we be beside ourselves, it is to God ; and if 
we be sober, it is for your cause ; for we seek not yours, but 
you ; and we will gladly spend and be spent for you, though, 
the more abundantly we love you, the less we be loved. As of 
sincerity, as of God, in the sight of God, speak we in Christ. 
For we are manifest unto God, and we trust also, are manifest 
in your consciences.' 

" But the situation of things, at the present day, is somewhat 
different. While we are seldom charged with other faults, we 
are not unfrequently suspected, and even accused, of insincerity ; 
of not really believing what we preach. It is a melancholy 
fact, that multitudes among us appear to consider the ministry 
merely as a profession, and to suppose that we preach the gospel 
only because it is, in the view of men, a professional duty. 
They seem not to imagine that we expect, or even wish, that they 
should believe the message which we bring. To account for 
this melancholy fact, is no part of my present design. Whether 
it is owing to the bold assertions of our enemies, to the preva- 
lence of sectarism and infidelity, or to something in our own 
conduct, is not for me to determine : but certain it is, that min- 
isters of our denomination are, by very many, regarded as 



EDWARD PAY SON. 



235 



mercenary hirelings, who ' prophesy for reward, and divine for 
money.' Surely, then, it becomes us, my fathers and brethren, 
to do every thing in our power to remove these injurious impres- 
sions, and to convince both our hearers and others, that, like the 
apostles, we believe, and therefore speak. 

'' The means necessary for the production of this effect will 
next demand our attention. 

" What means are necessary for this purpose we may learn 
in two different ways. 

" We may learn them from a careful attention to the conduct 
of the first preachers of Christianity. That they succeeded in 
convincing men of their sincerity, we have already seen. And 
since, in similar circumstances, the same causes ever produce 
similar effects, we may reasonably hope, by imitating their 
example, to produce a similar conviction in the minds of our 
hearers. 

" The means necessary for this purpose may be inferred, also, 
from a consideration of the nature and effects of faith, as describ- 
ed by the inspired writers. They inform us, that it is ' the 
substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not 
seen.' It enables those who possess it ' to endure, as seeing him 
who is invisible.' It gives unseen things a substance, a reality, 
an existence in the mind. It does, as it were, clothe them with 
a body, and thus leads those who possess it to feel and act, in 
some measure, as they would do, were the objects of faith made 
visible ; were God and Christ, and heaven and hell, rendered 
objects of sense. If, then, we would convince our hearers that 
we possess this faith, we must conduct in a similar manner. In 
other words, we must imitate the temper and conduct of the 
apostles; for it will appear, on a moment's reflection, that these 
different methods of ascertaining the means necessary to convince 
men of our sincerity lead to precisely the same result. 

" A general idea bf the manner in which a minister would 
conduct, to whom the great objects of faith were rendered visi- 
ble, may easily be formed. He would feel, that God is all in 
all, that his favor is the one thing needful, that his displeasure 
is the only thing dreadful, and that, to a minister, nothing, 
comparatively speaking, is worth knowing or making known, 
but Jesus Christ and him crucified. He would feel, that the 
temporal happiness of kingdoms, and even of worlds, is noth- 



236 MEMOIR OF 

ing, in comparison with the salvation of a single soul. * With 
such feelings his conduct would correspond. While he contem- 
plated the broad road, with the multitudes who throng it, and 
the destruction in which it ends, his compassion, grief, and zeal, 
would be most powerfully excited, and lead him to make every 
possible exertion to snatch his hearers as brands from the 
burning. ' Knowing the terrors of the Lord, he would persuade 
men.' In the performance of this duty, he would be instant in 
season, and out of season, and preach the word, not only pub- 
licly in the house of God, but privately and from house to house. 
In a word, he would give himself wholly to his work ; conse- 
crate to it all the powers of his body and mind, and pursue the 
grand object of saving himself, and them that heard him, with 
unabated ardor and activity, to the close of life. 

" The influence of the great objects which he beholds, would 
appear also in his manner of performing ministerial duties. In 
his public approaches to the throne of grace, he would exhibit 
a personification of reverence and godly fear, and evince that 
he was addressing a present being ; that he felt himself immedi- 
ately under the eye of a holy, heart-searching God. While he 
would make supplication for himself and his people, like one 
who was pleading for life, at the bar of his judge, every word 
and accent would show that he was deeply convinced of his 
guilt and sinfulness ; that he felt the need of a Mediator ; that 
he felt, also, that holy, humble confidence, which the sight of 
such a Mediator as Christ is calculated to inspire. 

*' In delivering his message as an ambassador of Christ, he 
would show that he felt deeply penetrated with a conviction of 
its truth and infinite importance. He would speak like one 
whose whole soul was filled with his subject. He would speak 
of Christ and his salvation as a grateful, admiring people would 
speak of a great and generous deliverer, who had devoted his 
life for the welfare of his country. He Avould describe religion 
as a traveller describes a country through which he has leisurely 
passed, or as an aged man describes the scenes of his former 
life. He would portray the Christian warfare as a veteran 
portrays a battle, in which he has just been contending for 
liberty and life. He would speak of eternity as one whose eye 
had been wearied in attempting to penetrate its unfathomable 
recesses, and describe its awful realities like a man who stood 



EDWARD PAYSON. 237 

on th^ verge of time, and had lifted the veil which conceals 
them from the view of mortals. ' Thoughts that glow and 
words that burn,' would compose his public addresses ; and 
while a sense of the dignity of his official character, and the 
infinite importance of his subject, would lead him to speak, as 
one having authority, with indescribable solemnity, weight, and 
energy ; a full recollection, that he was by nature a child of 
wrath, and that he was addressing fellow men, fellow sinners, 
mingled with compassion for their wretched state, and au 
ardent desire for their salvation, would spread an air of tender- 
ness over his discourses, and invest him with that affectionate, 
melting, persuasive correctness of manner, which is best calcu- 
lated to affect and penetrate the heart. To say all in a word, 
he would speak hke an ambassador of him who spake as never 
man spake, and who could say, We speak what we do know, 
and testify what we have seen. 

"Nor would the great objects which he beheld lose their in- 
fluence when he descended from the sacred desk. Wherever 
he went, they would still surround him, and their overwhelm- 
ing importance would annihilate in his mind the importance of 
all other objects. Wherever he went, he would see before him 
immortal beings, who were either heirs of glory or children of 
perdition ; pilgrims on their way to heaven, or travellers to hell. 
To awaken, convince, and convert the one, and to animate, in- 
struct, and comfort the other, would be the great object of his 
private conversation, as well as of his public addresses ; and 
the prosecution of this object would leave him neither leisure 
nor inclination to attend to secular concerns, any further than 
absolute necessity required. Feeling that he watched for souls 
as one who must give an account, and knowing the secret errors, 
mistakes, and delusions, into which men are prone to fall, he 
would be anxious to acquire as perfect a knowledge as possible 
of the religious character, views, and feelings, of every individual 
in his flock, and would improve every favorable opportunity for 
this purpose. Nor, while employed in cultivating the vineyard 
of others, would he forget or neglect his own ; but would labor 
to save himself, as well as to secure the salvation of them that 
heard him. He would be emphatically a man of prayer, and, 
like his divine Master, would often retire and ascend the mount 
to converse with God, and draw from the Fountain of life fresh 
supplies. 



238 MEMOIR OF 

*'It is needless to add, that he would not be conformed to the 
world, nor seek its honors, wealth, or applause. With a fixed 
and steadfast eye, he would contemplate things unseen and eter- 
nal, and count neither the joys nor the sufferings of the present 
life worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be 
revealed. Thus his life, as well as his sermons, would preach ; 
his official character would never be laid aside or forgotten ; his 
sincerity would be manifest to the consciences of his hearers, 
and all would exclaim, with one voice, ' This man believes, 
and therefore speaks.' 

"Such, my fathers and brethren, would probably be a minis- 
ter who saw what we all profess to believe. Such were the 
first preachers of the gospel ; and such, in some degree at least, 
must we be, if we would convince men of our sincerity. We 
must imitate the example of the apostles, and exhibit the influ- 
ence of that faith, which the Scriptures describe, in the 
discharge of our public official duties. In the performance of 
these duties, we must not confine ourselves within those limits 
which sloth or negligence first introduced, and which custom 
has sanctioned. We must not restrict our labors to the stated 
and ordinary services of the sanctuary. These our hearers 
expect. For these they imagine that we are paid. Their regu- 
lar performance is therefore considered, and justly so, as afford- 
ing no proof of our sincerity. To evince the reality of our 
belief, something more is necessary. We cannot reasonably 
expect our hearers to believe that we sincerely and earnestly 
desire their salvation, while we do nothing more to promote it 
than custom or a regard to our reputation requires ; nor is it 
easy to conceive how they can suppose, that we really believe 
them to be constantly exposed to endless, remediless ruin, while 
we warn them of their danger on the Sabbath only, and appear 
to forget their perilous situation during the remainder of the 
week. If we wish them to feel convinced that such is their 
situation, and that we really believe it to be so, we must show 
them that we fix no limits to our labors, but those which neces- 
sity prescribes. 

"Of little, if any, less importance is it, that we exhibit the 
influence and effects of faith in our manner of performing min- 
isterial duties. However frequently or plainly we may warii 
our hearers, if we address them only in a cold, unfeeling man- 



EDWARD PAY SON. 230 

ner, -we can scarcely expect them to feel convinced of our 
sincerity. Such, evidently, was not the manner in which the 
first preachers of Christianity inculcated its doctrines. St. Paul 
could say, when bidding farewell to his Ephesian hearers, ' I 
ceased not to warn every one of you, night and day with tears.' 
Considering the sanguine temperament of the apostle, and the 
different constitutions and dispositions of men, it cannot, per- 
haps, be reasonably demanded or expected, that every minister 
should be able to say this ; though, if any thing can justly call 
for tears, it must be the situation of our impenitent hearers ; 
and to weep in contemplation of the miseries v/hich they are 
bringing upon them'selves, is highly becoming in the ministers 
of him who wept over rebellious Jerusalem. To say the least, 
some degree of apparent earnestness, zeal, and fervor, seems 
requisite to stamp our public discourses with an air of sincerity ; 
and when the natural disposition renders it impossible to mani- 
fest much warmth of feeling, as in many cases it undoubtedly 
does, it is peculiarly necessary that its absence should be sup- 
plied by increased solemnity and energy in the dispensation of 
tiuth. Mankind are so constituted, that it is exceedingly 
difficult, not to say impossible, for them to believe that a speak- 
er is in earnest, who does not appear to be interested in his 
subject, or who delivers interesting and important truths in a 
manrjer which betrays a total want of feeling; and never are 
they less ready to excuse such a manner — never, indeed, is 
it lejy excusable — than when found in those who preach the 
glorious gospel of the blessed God, and, in his name, warn sin- 
ners to fly from the wrath to come. It is, doubtless, to their 
adoption of a more warm and impassioned mode of address, 
that the influence of sectarian preachers over the minds of com- 
mon hearers is to be principally ascribed. It is this, which 
gives their loose and desultory, but vehement harangues, an air 
of sincr;rity, an appearance of flowing warm from the heart, 
which cur more correct and methodical discourses do not always 
possei^i:^ but which is almost indispensably necessary to the pro- 
duction of a general belief that we are sincere. In making 
these observations, I would not, however, be understood to 
intimate, that an apparent want of fervency, zeal, and anima- 
tion, aflbrds, in all cases, just cause for questioning a minister's 
sincerity ; or that the degree of real feeling is always in propo;- 



240 MEMOIR OF 

tion to the outward expressions of it. We readily allow, that 
many may firmly believe the truths they deliver, and feel deep- 
ly interested in their success, and yet, in consequence of a con- 
stitutional coolness and evenness of temper, display less warmth 
and animation than others who are far below them in real faith 
and religious sensibility. Still, we carmot believe that it is im- 
possible for any one, whose heart glows with the sacred fire of 
love and zeal, to preach in such a manner, as to leave in the 
minds of his hearers no doubt of his sincerity, or of his earnest 
desire to effect their salvation. 

" If this be important, it is, if possible, still more so, that we 
exhibit the influence and effects of faith in our more private 
intercourse with society. ' It is here,' says a celebrated Evig- 
Hsh prelate, ' that, I conceive, we of the clergy are apt to fail. 
We do not always, in the common intercourse of life, appear 
sufficiently penetrated with the importance of our function, or 
sufficiently assiduous in promoting the ends of our misson.' 
'I could name instances,' says another divine, 'where it has 
appeared to me, that the probable good effects of a very faith- 
ful testimony in the pulpit, have, humanly speaking, been 
wholly defeated by too successful endeavors to be agreeable out 
of it.' These remarks, though made with reference to the 
English clergy, are but in too many instances applicable to the 
divines of our own country ; and they suggest, at once, much 
important instruction and reproof. It is doubtless right to 
associate with all classes among our hearers, and even with 
publicans and sinners ; but it must be only, or principally, with 
a design to instruct and reform them. It is also not only right, 
but a duty, to become all things to all men, so far as we law- 
fully can ; but our only object in doing it must be by all means 
to save some ; and if the object be not kept steadily in view, 
if religious conversation be not introduced on all proper occa- 
sions, on all occasions which Christ and his apostles would have 
thought proper for this purpose, our social intercourse with our 
hearers will certainly become a snare to us, and a stumbling 
block to them ; and, perhaps, more than counteract the good 
effects of all our public addresses. If we lay aside our official 
character, and feel as if we had discharged all our official du- 
ties, when we descend from the sacred desk ; if, while associat- 
ing v/ith our impenitent hearers, we appear to forget their 



EDWARD PAY SON 



241 



character, and the awfully dangerous situation in which they 
stand, they will certainly forget it too, and probably doubt 
whether we really believe it ourselves. Should a physician as- 
sure a number of his patients, that their symptoms were highly 
alarming, and their diseases probably mortal, and then sit down 
and converse on trifling subjects, with an air of quiet indiffer- 
ence or levity, what would be their inference from his conduct? 
Would they not unavoidably conclude, either that he did not 
really consider their situation as dangerous, or that he was 
grossly deficient in sensibility, and in a proper regard to their 
feelings ? So if our impenitent hearers see us, after solemnly 
assuring them from the pulpit, that they are children of disobe- 
dience, children of wrath, and momentarily exposed to the most 
awful punishment, mingling in their society with an apparent 
unconsciousness of their perilous situation ; conversing with 
earnestness on secular affairs ; and seldom or never introducing 
topics strictly religious, or embracing private opportunities to 
warn them of their danger, — what must they suppose 7 If they 
reflect at all, must they not unavoidably conclude, either that 
we do not believe their situation to be such as we have repre- 
sented it, or that we are totally devoid, not only of benevolence, 
compassion, and religious sensibility, but even of the common 
feelings of humanity 7 It is needless to remark, that either con- 
clusion would be far from producing favorable ideas of our sin- 
cerity, or ministerial faithfulness. If, then, we wish that such 
ideas should be entertained by our people, we must convince 
them by our conduct, that we never forget our character, our 
duty, or their situation. 

" The conviction of our cordial belief of the truths we deliv- 
er, which such a discharge of the ministerial duty will produce 
in the minds of our hearers, must be seated and maintained by 
a corresponding life. Unaccompanied with this, all other 
means will be in vain. ' Example,' says a French prelate, ' is 
the groundwork of a minister's character.' ' In vain,' he adds, 
* do we preach to our hearers. Our life, of which they are 
witnesses, is, with the generality of men, the gospel. It is 
not what we declare in the house of God, it is what they see us 
practise in our general demeanor.' If, then, we would maintain 
a conviction among our hearers, that we are sincere, our con- 
duct, as well as our sermons, must preach : and if the former 

VOL. I. 31 



242 MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 

contradicts, or does not coincide with the latter, no good effects 
can be reasonably expected to follow. We must, therefore, be 
able, though we may not think proper, to say, with the apostle, 
' Be ye followers of me, even as I am of Christ. The things 
which ye have received, and learned, and heard, and seen in 
me, do, and the God of peace shall be with you.' If, says 
archbishop Usher to his clergy, ' if practical Christian piety, be- 
nevolence, and self government, with constant zeal to promote 
them all upon earth, are not the first and chief qualities, which 
your parishioners and acquaintances will ascribe to you ; if 
they will speak of you as noted on other accounts, but pass 
over these articles in silence, and, when asked about them, be 
at a loss what to say, excepting, possibly, that they know no 
harm of you, all is not right ; nor can such a clergy ansAver the 
design of its institution any where, nor even maintain its 
ground in a country of freedom and learning.' God grant that 
the clergy of this country may never, by evincing the want of 
these qualities, frustrate the all-important end of their ministry, 
nor render it impossible for them to maintain their ground 
against the assaults of error, vice, and infidelity." ^ 

Had this description of the " good minister of Jesus Christ " 
been drawn by another hand, the familiar acquaintances of Dr. 
Payson might well have supposed that himself sat for the pic- 
ture ; so accurately did the grand features of his ministerial 
character correspond with this delineation. Here is, unques- 
tionably, the standard of excellence which he had prescribed to 
himself, and at which his aims were continually directed. 
And, whatever might have been the degree of those deficiencies, 
which he so frequently and so pathetically laments, as to the 
spirit and temper with which he discharged his official duties, 
it is doubted whether the most scrutinizing observer was ever 
able to detect in his practice any material variation from this 
standard. Often did his clear exhibitions of truth, and his full 
and plain exposures of the obliquities of men, prove the occa- 
sion of bitter and outrageous feelings in the bosoms of many ; 
but rarely, indeed, could the individual be found, who ventur- 
ed to express a doubt of his honesty and sincerity. He was 
always in earnest, and ^' commended himself to every man's 
conscience in the sight of God." 



CHAPTEE XIV. 



The pastor in action — Methods of exciting, sustaining and extending a due 
interest in rehgious concerns — Preaching, administration of ordmances, 
churcli fest, conference, inquiry meetings. 



Although most of the preceding chapter, if changed from the 
didactic form to that of narration, would, for the extent to 
v/hich it reaches, present a true history of its author, yet there 
are other details from his own pen, interspersed throughout his 
famiUar correspondence, which will be found scarcely less in- 
structive, and, at the same time, exhibit a fuller development 
of the nature, extent, and variety of his pastoral labors. We 
shall commence our extracts with a letter written in 1812, to a 
young clergyman, then recently settled in the ministry, who 
had sought his instruction and advice on the subject of pastoral 
duties. It has already been stated, that Mr. Payson was now 
the sole pastor of the church ; and it was in this year that thir- 
ty-one of its members were separated from it, and, by a distinct 
organization, constituted the ''Chapel Congregational Church 
in Portland," over which Mr. Kellogg was placed as pastor. 
The vacancy hereby created was more than filled — forty-eight 
persons being added to the church within the same year. It 
v/as distinguished beyond former years for " the fruits of the 
Spirit." 

'' Dear brother : — Your letter requesting ' information and 
advice,' has just reached me. I rejoice in the circumstances 
that led to such a request. I rejoice still more that you feel 
' ignorant, and inexperienced, and inadequate to the charge 



244 MEMOIR OF 

which has devolved upon you.' We must feel so. or we shall 
meet with little success. 

"1 can, however, assure you, for your encouragement, that 
you cannot possibly be more ignorant and inexperienced than I 
was at the time of my settlement. I knew just nothing at all 
of my business ; but I knew a little, O how little ! of my own 
ignorance. This led me to pray almost incessantly ; and, some- 
how or other, I have, as I trust, been preserved from fatal mis- 
takes, and not suffered to ruin either myself or my people, as I 
sometimes feared that I should. He who has thus guided me, 
and thousands of others equally foolish, will, I trust, guide you. 
The best advice I can give you, is, to look to Him. This I 
doubt not you do ; but you cannot do it too much. If we 
'would do much for God, we must ask much of God; we must 
be men of prayer; we must, almost literally, pray without 
ceasing. You have doubtless met with Luther's remark, 
' Three things make a divine — prayer, meditation, and tempta- 
tion.' My dear brother, I cannot insist on this too much. 
Prayer is the first thing, the second thing, and the third thing 
necessary for a minister, especially in seasons of revival. The 
longer you live in the ministry, the more deeply, I am persuaded, 
you will be convinced of this. Pray then, my dear brother, 
pray, pray, pray. Read the account of Solomon's choice, 1 
Kings, iii. 5 — 15. If, like him, you choose wisdom, and pray 
for it, it will be yours. 

" The next thing in importance is, as I conceive, that your 
church should be excited to pray for the influences of the Di- 
vine Spirit ; and that they should frequently meet for this pur- 
pose. For, though private prayer may be as effectual, it does 
not so directly tend to honor God, as that which is more public. 
God converts sinners for his own glory, and he will have all the 
glory of their conversion. Nothing tends more directly to give 
him the glory, than social prayer. In that duty we explicitly 
acknowledge, not only to him, but to our fellow-creatures, thai 
nothing but the influences of his Spirit can render any means 
effisctual, and that we are entirely dependent for those influ- 
ences on his sovereign will. In a word, we acknowledge that, 
in the conversion of sinners, he is all, and we are nothing. 

*' With respect to those who are awakened. I conceive it is 
our duty to act as fellow- workers with the Divine Spirit ; to 



EDWARD PAYSON. 245 

insist principally on those truths of which he first convinces 
them, and to endeavor, both by our preaching and conversation, 
to bring them to the same point to which he aims to bring them. 
This point is complete self-despair, and hope in Christ. The 
former is a pre-requisite to the latter. 1 therefore aim, in the 
first place, to increase their convictions of sins, especially of 
the great, damning sin of unbelief If they ask, What shall 
we do ? I never dare give them any other answer than that 
given by Christ and his apostles : ' Repent, and believe the gos- 
pel.' I insist much on the character of God ; the strictness, ex- 
tent and spirituality of his law ; the various artifices, deceptions, 
and excuses of the heart ; the false hopes of sinners and hypo- 
crites ; the nature of true and false conversion ; and the great 
danger of being deceived. I also frequently warn them of the 
dreadful consequences of delaying repentance, grieving the Spirit, 
losing their convictions, or resting on false hopes, like the stony 
ground hearers. I labor especially to convince them that all 
the difficulties which oppose their salvation lie in their own 
hearts — that Christ is willing to save them — but they are un- 
willing to be saved in his way, and are, therefore, without excuse. 
This is a very important point. I have seen none go back who 
appeared to be truly convinced of this. In addition to this, I 
say much of the glory, beauty, and sufficiency of Christ, and 
of the perfect freeness of the blessings which he oflfers, and 
endeavor to show them the horrid pride, ingratitude, (fcc, of 
neglecting to accept of them. These are some of the principal 
subjects on which I preach to inquirers. You will easily de- 
termine what are the most proper texts from which to explain 
and enforce them. 

^'With respect to our inquiry meetings, I can only tell you 
that we have them once a week, afternoons for females, evenings 
for males. It is difficult to persuade them to converse as freely 
as might be wished. You will find, however, as your experi- 
ence increases, that it is of little consequence whether they say 
much or not, as a single sentence will often give you as perfect 
a view of their character and feelings, as you could acquire 
from the longest conversation. But, if you wish them to con- 
verse with you with freedom, you must visit them at home. 
Your greatest danger will be in comforting them too soon. All 
comfort is dangerous till they surrender unconditionally to the 



246 MEMOIR OF 

sjovereigii grace of God. It is much safer to err on the other 
side." ' 

The extract which follows describes the origin of a meeting 
that was long continued, and signally blessed: — 

''Nov. 14, 1814. 
*' Three weeks since, I preached to the young, from the words 
of Christ, when twelve years old — 'I must be about my Father's 
business. ' At the close of the sermon, I invited all the young 
men, who were fully determined to engage immediately in their 
Father's work, to meet me in the evening, and, at the same time, 
told them I was not confident that any of them would come. 
However, about forty attended. After stating to them the diffi- 
culties and temptations they would meet with, and the sacrifices 
they must make in a religious course, I advised them to consider 
of it a fortnight, and, if they still felt resolved to persevere, to 
meet me again. About thirty came the second evening ; and, 
though I cannot calculate upon all, or even the major part of 
them, becoming Christians, yet I hope some of them will." 

Two or three times, during his ministry, he adopted what 
would be generally regarded as bold measures; and they would 
have been absolutely rash and injurious, had they not originated 
in a sincere and glowing zeal for God, and the eternal welfare 
of men. It would be hazardous for another to imitate him 
herein, without some portion of his spirit. Yet who, that esti- 
mates the worth of the soul, will dare to censure his conduct, 
or say that the importance of the object was not, at least, com- 
mensurate with his zeal? 

"Feb. 21, 1815. 
"We have a great revival commencmg. We have been ex- 
pecting it some time ; and a few weeks since, at the close of a 
suitable sermon, I informed the congregation that I believed God 
was about to bless us, and told them that the quarterly fast of 
the church was at hand, and that, if they would consent to unite 
with the church in the fast, wfe would meet in the meeting-house, 
instead of the conference room, where we usually assemble on 
such occasions. At the same time, I invited those who were 



EDWARD PAY SON. 247 

willing to meet the church to signify it by rising. About two- 
thirds of the congregation instantly rose. It was a most solemn 
scene. The church, to whom the measure was altogether un- 
expected, were almost overwhelmed with various emotions, and 
scarcely knew whether to be glad or sorry, to hope or fear. You 
may well suppose that the interval between the Sabbath and 
the fast was a trying season to me. I felt that I had completely 
committed myself — that my all was at stake — that, if a blessing 
did not attend the measure, every mouth would be open to con- 
demn it; and it seemed as if I could hardly survive a disappoint- 
ment. I should not have taken such a step, had I not believed 
I had sufficient reason for trusting that God would bear me out 
in it ; and I thought if he did not bear me out, I never should 
again know what to expect — never should feel confidence to 
pray. I expected severe trials, but had few fears of the event. 
The trials came, but they did not come in the way that I expect- 
ed, and therefore I was surprised and overcome by them. The 
day of the fast was the most dreadful day of my life — the day 
in which I had most dreadful proofs of more than diabolical 
depravity of heart. The meeting-house was full, but things did 
not go on in the manner I had hoped and expected. I thought 
all was lost; and I now wonder that I lived through it — that a 
broken heart, as Mr. Newton says disappointed pride and mad- 
ness are called, was not the consequence. For some days I saw 
and heard nothing encouraging, and my distress was unabated; 
but at the next inquiry meeting, I found more than sixty inquir- 
ers. This number, within a week, was considerably increased, 
and eight or ten have obtained comfort. The prospect is now 
more encouraging than it has been since my settlement." 

Below is an incidental mention of the multiplicity of his labors, 
from which may be inferred the despatch with which he habit- 
ually executed his appropriate work: — 

"May 21, 1816, 
*' My avocations were never so numerous. I have two sermons, 
which I wish, if possible, to prepare for the press, but fear I 
never shall find time. I have also three ordination sermons to 
preach within two months, sermons before two missionary socie- 
ties within the same time,- and, on the second Sabbath in July, 



248 MEMOIR OF 

I have an engagement to preach in Portsmouth, before the man- 
agers of the Female Asyhim. Besides this, I preach four 
sermons, and attend two inquiry meetings, weekly, &c. &c. 
Judge, then, whether I am not worn out, and whether I do not 
need your prayers more than ever. As to a revival, my wishes 
for it are not, cannot be too strong, if they are disinterested, and 
not selfish. Though I am wearing myself out, it is, 1 sometimes 
fear, rather in the service of self than in the service of God; 
and this reflection imbitters every thing I do. It would be 
heaven to labor for God, but it is misery to labor for one's self. 
As to the slang you hear about a revelation, I need not tell you 
that there is no truth in it. However, I hope the Lord has some 
people yet to be gathered in here. We have admitted thirty- 
three since the year came in, and nine stand propounded ; the 
number of inquirers about one hundred, and slowly increasing." 

"April 13, 1820. 
"We have some encouraging appearances, as we have often 
had before, but nothing decisive. Last Sabbath I invited the 
male part of the parish, who were willing to be considered in- 
quirers after religion, to meet me in the evening. Between thirty 
and forty attended, but I fear that very few of them are deeply 
impressed. We have about the same number of females, who 
are in a similar state; and it seems, as it has for a long time, 
that, if God would work a little more powerfully, there would 
be a great revival. But I desire to wait." 

"August, 6, 182L 
" As to my desires for a revival, I have not, and never had, 
the least doubt that they are exceedingly corrupt and sinful. A 
thousand wrong motives have conspired to excite them. Still I 
do not believe that my desires were ever half so strong as they 
ought to be; nor do I see how a minister can help being in a 
'constant fever,' in such a town as this, where his Master is 
dishonored, and souls are destroyed in so many ways. You can 
scarcely conceive how may things occur, almost daily, to distress 
and crush me. All these are nothing, when my Master is with 
me; but, when he is absent, I am of all men most miserable. 
But now he is with me and I am happy. 

"We have just set up a meeting on a new plan. Notes, to this 



EDWARD PAYSON. 249 

effect, are put into a box at the door: — 'A member of this church 
desires prayers for the conversion of a husband, a child, a parent,' 
&c., as the case may be. These notes are then read, and prayers 
are offered. We have had but one meeting; the evening was 
rainy, but nearly forty notes were given in, and it was the most 
solemn meeting we have had for a long time. Among the notes 
were two from persons who think they were deceived when they 
made a profession of rehgion, desiring prayers that they may 
be truly converted. The church has also had a day of thanks- 
giving, latelyj to acknowledge what God has done for us, and 
it was a comfortable season. — These things give me some en- 
couragement; but we have been so often disappointed, that I 
scarcely dare to hope." 

A letter to a young clergyman, written soon after the preceding 
extract, contains a still more complete sketch of his labors at 
this time. It has been extensively copied by the religious peri- 
odicals of the country, one of which professes to be "shocked at 
his expressions in relation to revivals, " as indicating "that temer- 
ity which would rely on the impotent arm of the creature." If 
his language is susceptible of such a construction, it most 
unhappily misrepresents his judgment and his heart. For, 
though he was "abundant in labors," no man ever ascribed less 
efficacy to means, or felt more entirely his exclusive dependence 
upon the Holy Spirit. 

" Portland, Aug. 17, 1821. 
" My dear brother : — I have just received your kind letter, and 
hope it has done me some good. I thank you for it, though the 
perusal of it has given me much pain. It is evident that you 
think far more favorably of me than I deserve ; and your apply- 
ing to me for advice shames and mortifies me exceedingly. 
But I dare not say what I feel on this subject, lest you should 
think me humble, which is far enough from being the case. 
Besides, you wish me to write respecting myself and my labors, 
and this is the very subject on which I am most unwilling to 
write, because I find it most dangerous. It affords an opportu- 
nity for gratifying an accursed spirit of self-seeking, which has 
ever been my bane and torment, and which insinuates itself into 
every thing I say or do. I know not that I have ever spoken of 



250 MEMOIR OF 

myself without furnishing cause for sorrow and shame. How, 
then, can I write as you request me to do ? or what can I say 
that will be of any service to you ? But you will reply that 
God can bless the feeblest means. True ; and therefore 1 will 
write, though I foresee that I shall smart for it. 

''You ask for a general view of my pastoral labors, method 
of preaching, &c. &c. Since the failure of my health, I preach 
but three sermons in a week — two on the Sabbath, and one on 
Thursday evening. On that evening and Sabbath morning, I 
preach without notes, but generally form a skeleton of my ser- 
mon. I should like to write more, but my health will not 
permit; and I find that, when any good is done, it is my extem- 
pore sermons which do it. I am afraid of producing a faith 
which stands not in the power of God, but in the wisdom of 
men, and, therefore, make as little use as possible of human 
arguments, but confine myself to a plain, simple exhibition of 
divine truth. The sword of the Spirit will not wound if it has 
a scabbard on it. I also aim to preach the truths of the gospel 
in a practical and experimental, rather than a dry and specula- 
tive manner. In preaching to professing Christians, I endeavor 
to rouse and humble, rather than to comfort them ; for, if they 
can be kept humble, comfort will follow of course. Besides, 
I do not suppose that Christians need as much consolation 
now as they did in the primitive ages, when exposed to perse- 
cution. 

'' Our church is divided into seven districts; the members of 
each district meet for prayer and conversation once a month, 
and the brethren residing in each district are a standing com- 
mittee of the church, for that district, to supply the wants of the 
poor, and bring before the church, in due form, any case of dis- 
cipline which may occjir. — We have a monthly meeting of all 
the brethren for business, a church conference every Tuesday 
evening, a prayer meeting on Friday evening, a monthly 
prayer meeting for the Sabbath schools, and the monthly 
union concert for prayer. We have also an inquiry meeting 
for males, on Sabbath evening, and for females, on Friday after- 
noon. 

" As to method in the division of time, I have none ; but live 
altogether extempore. This is partly owing to the wretched 
state of my health, which deprives me of at least three days in 



EDWARD PAYSON. 251 

every week, and partly to continual interruptions from visitors, 
whom I must see. I knew not how to bear this, till I met with 
the following maxim of an eminent minister : ' The man who 
wants me is the man I want.' 

" My rule, in regard to visiting, is to visit as much as time and 
health will permit. I make none but pastoral visits. I gave 
lay people to understand, when I was settled, that they must 
never invite me to dine or sup when they did not wish to have 
the conversation turn wholly on religious subjects. This has 
;^aved me much time and trouble. 

" The books which I have found most useful to me are Ed- 
wards's Works, Brainerd's Life, Newton's Letters, Owen's 
Treatise on Indwelling Sin, Mortification of Sin in Believers, 
and the 130th Psalm, and Thomas a Kempis's Imitation of 
Christ, translated by Payne — for Stanhope's translation I think 
not so good. If you have not seen Thomas a Kempis, I beg 
you to procure it. Some things you will not like ; but, for spir- 
ituality and weanedness from the world, I know of nothing 
equal to it. Perhaps I ought to include, in the above list, 
Baxter's Reformed Pastor, and Saint's Rest. 

"It would require a volume to detail the experiments I have 
made, and the means I have used to effect a revival of religion 
and, after it was written, it would not be worth reading. I will, 
however, just mention what we are doing now. We have estab- 
lished a prayer meeting on the following plan : — Members of 
the church, and others, if they think proper, present notes 
requesting prayers for the conversion of any friend or relative 
for whom they feel anxious. No names are mentioned. The 
notes are placed in a small box by the door, and afterwards 
handed to me to be read. We have had two meetings. They 
were uncommonly solemn, and many of the notes were very 
affecting. One was, 'A female stranger desires your prayers 
for her conversion.' Another, ' One of the society desires your 
prayers for the conversion of her husband and herself Several 
Avere from old professors, who fear that they have been deceived, 
and a great number from husbands, wives, and parents, desiring 
prayers for their partners, children, «fcc. When we came to 
spread all these cases before God as the only Giver of good 
things, the scene was awfully solemn and affecting. 



252 MEMOIR OF 

"I think with you, that the management of a revival is a 
very difficult thing. It is, I believe, a subject as yet very imper- 
fectly understood. At least, I know but very little of it. 

" I think I can conceive, in some measure, of the inconven- 
ience you experience in consequence of the great extent of your 
parish. It must be exceedingly difficult to collect your church 
together as often as you would wish, and to perform ministerial 
duties. A minister, however, who has but a small parish, is 
required to do all that he can, and you are required to do no 
more. Still it is exceedingly painful to see many things which 
need to be done, but which we cannot find time or strength to 
do. My parish, as well as my heart, very much resembles the 
garden of the sluggard ; and, what is worse, I find that most of 
my desires for the melioration of both proceed either from pride, 
or vanity, or indolence. I look at the weeds w^hich overspread 
my garden, and breathe out an earnest wish that they were 
eradicated. But why ? What prompts the wish ? It may be 
that I may walk out and say to myself, ' In what fine order is 
my garden kept !' This is pride. Or it may be that my neigh- 
bors may look over the wall, and say, ^ How finely your garden 
flourishes !' This is vanity. Or I may wish for the destruction 
of the weeds because I am weary of pulling them up. This is 
indolence. Yet from such sources, I fear, do most of my desires 
for personal holiness, and for the progress of religion in my 
society, proceed. I hope and trust it is otherwise with you. 

"As I write with perfect freedom, I will take the liberty to 
mention one thing more, which, if I always attended to, it 
■would, I believe, be highly beneficial. The disciples, we read, 
* returned to Jesus, and told him all things, both what they had 
done and what they had taught.' I think, that if we would, 
every evening, come to our Master's feet, and tell him where 
•we have been, what we have done, what we have said, and 
what were the motives by which we have been actuated, it 
would have a salutary effect upon our whole conduct. While 
reading over each day's page of life, with the consciousness 
that He was reading it with us, we should detect many errors 
and defects, v/hich would otherwise pass unnoticed. Pardon 
this hint. I trust you do not need it. 

" I have written a long letter, and yet, I fear, said nothing 
which will be of the smallest service to you. But you must. 



EDWARD PAY SON. ^ 253 

as oar kind Master does, take the will for the deed. May He 
fill you with the Holy Ghost, and with faith, and make you 
instrumental of adding much people to the Lord. So prays 
your sincere friend." 

He was particularly observant of current events, and careful 
to make them all subservient to the great purposes of his minis- 
try. By these his exhortations were often enforced ; and hence 
some of the severest reproofs which he administered were drawn. 
At the close of public worship, one Sabbath, he gave notice that 
the different churches in the town would observe the following 
Wednesday as a day of fasting and prayer for divine influen- 
ces ; and. after mentioning that religious exercises would be 
attended in the morning, afternoon, and evening, he observed : 
''Should any be disposed to ask, with the Pharisees of old, 'To 
what purpose is this waste of time ?' I would remind them of 
the attention lately bestOAved on an earthly benefactor. One 
united, earnest request was made to him, that he would visit 
this country, for which, in times of trial, he had sacrificed ease 
and domestic comfort, and hazarded his life and treasure. He 
acceded to the invitation of a grateful people ; he has visited 
you. You spared neither time nor expense to give him an hon- 
orable reception. And have you not, my friends, a Heavenly 
Benefactor, from whom you receive every good and perfect gift] 
a Saviour, who has given his life to redeem you from everlast- 
ing bondage and misery 7 When will one hearty, united request 
arise from this place, that our God and Redeemer will visit us 7 
And should he come, would he be welcomed as was the bene- 
factor just alluded to 7 It is true that, in one sense, God is ever 
present ; but he can be with us in such a manner that his pres- 
ence will be felt, and the effects of it made visible. And the ef- 
fects of his absence, too, may be seen, while no cheering rays of his 
life-giving Spirit are imparted. And shall we grudge a day, to 
be devoted to special entreaty, that he would come in the chariot 
of his salvation, from conquering to conquer 7 that he would 
make us glad with the light of his countenance 7 Was one day 
too short for all the acknowledgements which we were desirous 
to make to our nation's friend 7 And is it too long to be devo- 
ted to him who is the Redeemer of the world, from whom 
Cometh our salvation, and whose favor is immortal Ufe7" 



254 MEMOIR OP 

Among his various methods of drawing attention to the sub- 
ject of rehgion, and impressing the mind with its importance, 
the following is, perhaps, worthy of preservation, for the practi- 
cal hint which it conveys : — 

" Once, in the course of my ministry, I made an analysis of 
all the sermons which I had preached to my people for six 
months, and imbodied it in one sermon, and preached it to them. 
They were astonished, and I was astonished, at the amount of 
truth which had been presented to them, and, to human appear- 
ance, with very little effect." — How descriptive of his constant 
solicitude, and of the various exertions to which it prompted him, 
are the lines of the poet : — 

" And as a bird each fond endearment tries 
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, 
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, 
Allm*ed to brighter worlds, and led the way." 

It would be matter for lamentation, if the preceding state- 
ments of insulated facts should be so interpreted as to convey to 
strangers an impression altogether erroneous respecting Dr. 
Payson's general manner of exercising the ministry. He was a 
staunch friend to the '' good old way," and generally adhered 
to it in the discharge of ministerial duties; his deviations were 
circumstantial. He differed from others in the zeal and earnest- 
ness with which he prosecuted the ordinary routine of clerical 
services^ more than in the novelty and extravagance of his 
measures. The new aspect which his society'- assumed, in 
consequence of the blessing of God upon his faithful and zealous 
labors, required meetings and exercises of a specific character, 
and, of course, some addition to their number. To render these 
in the highest degree subservient to the spiritual good of his 
charge, was his uniform aim, in the pursuit of which he made 
the most felicitous use of every providential event and every 
noticeable fact in the circumstances of his people, as a means of 
enforcing truths and duties of immediate and indispensable 
importance. His very few direct deviations from the regular 
course, particularly calling upon the congregation to rise, though 
adopted from a full conviction, at the time, that the crisis 
demanded them, seem to have been viewed by him afterwards^ 



EDWARD PAYSON. 255 

as of rather questionable expediency, as is evident from the 
apology Avhich the reader has already seen, under date of Feb. 
21. 1815, and from an allusion yet to be seen, in his diary, 
where he characterizes them as "extraordinary, and perhaps 
imprudent measures." A frequent resort to them he most 
certainly would not justify; for he makes their defence to rest on 
the extraordinary circumstances of the case, and on the fact 
that he adopted them "after much prayer for direction." It 
should be remembered, too, that he was the established pastor, 
that he stood high in the affections and confidence of his people, 
who had witnessed the rapid growth of his extraordinary piety, 
for a period of eight or ten years, without having discovered a 
single circumstance to discredit its reality or strength. They 
knew him to be a man of great simplicity of purpose, who did 
nothing for stage effect ; and whatever might be their judgment 
of particular acts, they were sure he watched for their souls 
as one that must give account, and was not accustomed to " say 
a word to sinuers, except when he had a broken heart himself." 
These and other circumstances, which might be mentioned, 
distinguish his measures from those of the mere temporary or 
itinerant preacher, and afford, at most, but a very dubious 
sanction to the wilder tendencies of some more recent evan- 
gelists. 

The feelings which prompted and sustained his restless activ- 
ity for the glory of God and the salvation of men, very frequently 
disclose themselves in his correspondence and diary : — 

" December 26, 1821. 
" I do not think you understand my feelings about a revival. 
Unless I am very much deceived, I have no controversy with 
God respecting it. But ought a minister to feel easy while his 
people are perishing, and Christians are dishonoring their Mas- 
ter? Did not Paul feel great heaviness, and continual sorrow 
of heart, for his countrymen 7 All the joy and gratitude he felt. 
in view of what God had done for him and by him, could not 
remove that sorrow. And the prophet would weep day and 
night for the daughter of his people. Instead of feeling less, it 
seems to me that I ought to feel more, and to have no rest. But 
I do not murmur at God's dealings. I only wonder that he ever 



256 MEMOIR or 

did any thing for me or by me; and that he has not long since, 
cast me out of his vineyard. As to the bed-ridden female you 
mention. I see nothing very wonderful in her rejoicing and grat- 
itude. Well may she rejoice and be grateful when she is filled 
full of divine consolation. She has outward trials, it is true; 
but what are they, when Christ is present ] Who wants can- 
dles when he has the sun ] Give me her consolations, and I 
will sing as loud as she does. And let her have my showers of 
fiery darts, and my other trials, and, unless I am much mistak- 
en, she will groan as much as I do. I have seen very young 
Christians terribly afflicted by bodily pain and sickness, for 
m.onths together, and all the time full of joy and thankfulness; 
and I have seen the same persons afterwards, when they were 
surrounded by temporal mercies, show very little of either. 
Things seem to be a little on the mending hand ; and the church 
are again beginning to hope for a revival. Last Sabbath was 
an uncommonly solemn day." 

''Aug. 20, 1823. 

'' It has been, and still is, a season of spiritual deadness 
among us. I have preached so plainly, especially to the church, 
that I feared they would not bear it, and that we should come 
to an open rupture. However, they have borne it very well, 
and there seems now to be more of a disposition among them 
to make exertion ; but it is impossible to say what the result 
will be. 

" If you have not written to lately, it would be well to 

cheer him with a letter. Poor man ! he seems to be just enter- 
ing on Newton's second stage, the characteristic of which, you 
recollect, is conflict. However, I trust he will be carried safely 
through. I w^sh, with all my heart, that Satan would fight 
against the peace of some of our church more than he doesj 
but he is too cunning to do that. He sees that they are slum- 
bering, and he will take care not to wake them. You can 
scarcely form an idea how soporific the air of a seaport is, nor 
of the irresistible force with which the world assails Christians 
in such a place as this. Tiie moment they step out of doors, it 
rushes in at their eyes and ears, in ten thousand shapes, so that, 
unless their hearts are pre-occupied with better things, they are 
filled with it in a moment. By turns I expostulate, and plead, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 257 

and warn, and threaten, and weep, and pray, and sometimes 
almost scold, but all in vain. The v/orld drags away its vic- 
tims, and laughs my feeble efforts to scorn." 

"Dec. 5, 1823. 

'' A few weeks since, I set up a Bible class for young persons 
over fourteen years of age. About two hundred and fifty at- 
tend, and some of them appear interested ; but none are awa- 
kened as yet. However, God must have some chosen ones 
among the rising generation, and he will, sooner or later, bring 
them in ; but I fear that all, or nearly all, who have passed the 
meridian of life — I mean in my society — are given over to 
final hardness of heart." 

"Jan. 31, 1824. 

" Yesterday was our quarterly fast, and I pursued a new 
method. I first confessed my own sins to the church, asked 
their forgiveness, and then requested them to unite with me hi 
praying that God would forgive me, and ordain me afresh as 
their pastor. I then, having, as I hope, cast the beam out of 
my own eye, proceeded to take the mote out of the eye of my \ 
brethren. I first called upon the deacons to follow my example, 
if they thought proper, by confessing their sins, and appointing 
one of their number to lead in prayer, that they might be for- 
given. A similar call was then made upon the brethren, and, 
after that, upon the sisters, for whom I acted as mouth. A 
great deal was said, which I cannot write, but for want of 
which you will not fully understand our method of proceeding, 
nor all the reasons of it. It must suffice to say, that we at- 
tempted to obey, on a large scale, the exhortation of James : 
^ Confess your faults one to another, and pray for one another, 
that ye may be healed.' I cannot but hope that it will prove to 
have been a profitable season, and that a blessing will follow 
it." 

"May 2, 1825. 

" I returned last week on Wednesday, preached a preparatory 
lecture on Thursday, attended the church quarterly fast on 
Friday, prepared for the Sabbath on Saturday, and, yesterday, 
preached twice, administered the sacrament, and addressed and 
prayed with the baptized youth. The consequence is that I am 
only half alive this morning. L. and a young lady who boards 
with us were very much affected by the address to baptized 
VOL. I. 33 



258 MEMOIR OF 

youth. They wept all the last evening, and appear very solemn 
this morning; but L. has so often been affected in a similar 
manner, that I dare not promise myself much from present ap- 
pearances. It is, however, evident that the Holy Spirit is con- 
stantly striving with her ; she is never perfectly at ease ; and 1 
cannot but hope she will, ere long, become a subject of grace. 

" In a religious view, things remain with us very much as 
they have been, though I think the church, or some of them, at 
least, are becoming more alive than they were. 1 have lately 
had some delightful meditations on the priesthood of Christ. 1 
was led to them by thinking how a penitent Israelite must have 
regarded his high priest. We may consider such a man as say- 
ing — ' I am a miserable, polluted sinner. I cannot enter the 
holy place where God dwells, but am kept at a distance. I 
cannot burn incense acceptably, cannot be permitted even to 
offer my own sacrifice. But I have a high priest, appointed 
and consecrated by God, who is permitted to approach him on 
my behalf He carries my name, or the name of my tribe, on 
his breast-plate. He offers sacrifice for me ; he burns incense 
for me ; he enters the most holy place, and sprinkles atoning 
blood for me. In him I am accepted, and in him will I glory. 
Take away my high priest, and you take away my all ; but, 
while I have him, while he is accepted in my behalf, I will ex- 
ult and rejoice.' And with how much more reason may the 
Christian triumph and glory in his Great High Priest, and re- 
joice that he is ' accepted in the Beloved.' I do not mention 
these thoughts as any thing new, but as thoughts which have 
been peculiarly sweet and precious to me of late. Yet, alas ! I 
am continually seeking to be my own high priest, to find some- 
thing in myself, for the sake of which I may be accepted, at 
least in part. How happy are you, my dear mother, to have 
gotten almost through this wearisome, terrible conflict ! Your 
trials and sufferings are almost ended, and the blessed fruit of 
them is all to come." 

These extracts furnish specimens of his zeal, and his various 
methods of exerting himself for the promotion of religion at dif- 
ferent periods of his ministry; but it would be doing him great 
i..justice to leave any room for the inference that the intervals 
betAveen these dates were seasons of relaxation or indolence. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 259 

Such seasons he never allowed himself. His labors were never 
suspended, unless physical debility rendered the prosecution of 
them impossible. His religion was not intermittent. With him 
time was a precious talent, and he " paid no moment but in 
purchase of its worth. " He would not willingly suffer an hour 
to pass away without some eifortfor the recovery of lost sinners. 
Whatever were the declension of those around him, his ardor 
in religion, and his exertions for its advancement, suffered no 
visible abatement. On the contrary, the darkest times were 
those in which he was eminently "jealous for the Lord of hosts," \ 
a living witness to the power of divine grace, and a living reproof 
to such as "had gone away backward." When he saw his fel- 
low men indifferent to their own salvation — when he saw 
"reigning crime and hastening death" — it was "a spectacle 
which made" his heart ache, and "his eyes weep." He ex- 
postulated, he warned, he entreated, he mourned in secret places, 
he "ran between the dead and the living," and earnestly inter- 
ceded with God to interpose for their salvation. He could "not 
hold his peace, nor take rest, " when Zion was in affliction, and 
"none coming to the solemn feast. " As it respects the progress 
of the Redeemer's cause, he seemed always to glow with the 
spirit and feelings which most are accustomed to regard as a 
privilege peculiar to a time of general revival. These feelings 
must have been subject to some inequalities even in him; but 
they seem never to have sunk to a point which was not above 
the standard of attainment with ordinary men in their most 
favored seasons. He was, indeed, often discouraged with respect 
to himself and his own personal prospects; but, if he ever suf- 
fered any declension in zeal for the glory of God, in the salvation 
of others, it was of such temporary duration as to produce no 
perceptible effect on his use of means. If there was a time, 
during his whole ministry, when he was not ardently desirous, 
and, to the extent of his ability, actively laborious, for the con- 
version of sinners, the fact was not observable by his people, 
nor even by his most intimate friends. 

He loved his work: when not exhausted by fatigue, or ae- 
pressed by illness, he was specially fond of the exercise of 
preaching — so much so, that he considered it no favor for a 
way-faring brother to offer to supply his place, gratuitously, on 
a Sabbath. He felt, to use his own comparisoUj about as much 



260 MEMOIR OF 

obliged for such an offer, as he should to a man for proposing to 
eat up a good dinner, prepared for himself, when he was half 
starved. In preparing for the pulpit, it was uniformly his object 
to introduce so much of the grand truths of the gospel into every 
discourse, that a person who had never heard a sermon before, 
and should never hear another, might learn from it what was 
essential to salvation. While his sermons generally bore this 
uniform feature, they were endlessly various in other respects. 
He seldom selected a text without reference to the known cir- 
cumstances of his church and congregation; and so wakeful 
and diligent was he, "to know the state of his flock," that he 
scarcely ever failed in the adaptation of his subject. So dexter- 
ously did he wield the sword of the Spirit, and so fully and 
accurately discern and expose "the thoughts and intents of the 
'heart, " that, to this day, there are those who believe he obtained 
his information concerning them from eaves-droppers and "old 
women." 

But, among all his services in the house of God, none, perhaps, 
were more signally blessed than his exercises at the communion 
table. Uniformly, this ordinance was, in a high degree, refresL- 
ing to his own spirit. Hither he delighted to come and quench 
his thirst for the water of life. Here he met the Saviour, "who 
bore our sins in his own body on the tree," and who, "having 
himself suffered, being tempted, knoweth how to succor them 
that are tempted." For him the crucified Son of God had in- 
comparable attractions. He saw in Christ that kind, sympa- 
thizing, all-powerful High-Priest, who was suited to the wants 
of which he felt so deeply conscious. And he always came to 
this sacred feast with a soul full of tenderness, and dwelt on the 
love of a suffering Saviour with a pathos that was irresistible. 
Here, in an unrivalled degree, his "heart indited good matter, 
and his tongue was the pen of a ready writer." "Jesus Christ 
was, indeed, set forth crucified before the eyes" of the admiring 
communicants. His person, attributes, and offices, as the Re- 
deemer of our lost race; his marvellous compassion in dying to 
atone for our sins; his intercession at the right hand of the Father; 
the glories and terrors of his second coming, — were so distinctly 
and affectingly exhibited, as to excite the corresponding emotions 
in all hearts which were not harder than the nether mill-stone. 
Those who could sympathize with the administrator, while 



EDWARD PAYSON. 261 

contemplating Christ as Mediator, ''by whom we have access to 
God, and redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of 
our sins, according to the riches of his grace," felt that, in sin- 
ning against Christ, they had wounded their best, tenderest, 
almighty Friend. And O how hateful was sin made to appear ! 
how loathsome ! how heartily was it renounced ! how fervently 
its future commission deprecated ! and then the renewed and 
unreserved dedication of soul and body to God, as a living, holy, 
acceptable, and reasonable sacrifice ! ' ' How sweet and awful 
was the place, " while sealing their vows, and Christ his pardons, 
with the consecrated symbols of his body and blood ! How 
precious was the communion of saints with Jesus, and with one 
another ! — To hundreds have these sacred scenes been earnests 
of the heavenly inheritance. And the interest which he gave to 
the occasion by his spirituality, his knowledge of the heart, of 
the Saviour, of the mysteries of redemption, by his appropriate 
and impressive appeals, usually detained a great number who 
were not communicants. The spectators were as numerous as 
the guests ; and what they heard and witnessed was not unlre- 
quently the means of conviction. 

This, too, was his chosen occasion to impress on baptized 
youth a sense of their obligations to devote themselves to their 
God and Redeemer ; and a more suitable one could not have 
been selected. There are may who will remember it with ever- 
lasting gratitude. When it is recollected how much there is in 
this scene to render instructions impressive on the minds of this 
class of youth, might not ministers generally take a valuable 
hint from his practice ? 

The church fasts and conferences, when conducted by the pas- 
tor, were, next to those of the communion, the most humble, melt- 
ing, edifying, and instructive seasons which his highly favored 
flock enjoyed. Here he employed his faith, his imagination, and 
the various resources of his richly furnished mind, to show them 
their actual condition, and urge them forward in their Christian 
course. So distinctly and clearly could he illustrate the different 
degrees of Christian attainment, and mark the different shades 
and varieties of Christian experience in all its gradations, from 
the babe to the perfect man in Christ Jesus, that, it would seem, 
every Christian present must have known his precise rank, A 
specim.en of his manner, as near as can be recollected, may be 
thus stated: — 



262 MEMOIR OF 

" Suppose professors of religion to be ranged in different con- 
centric circles around Christ, as their common centre. Some 
value the presence of their Saviour so highly, that they cannot 
bear to be at any remove from him. Even their work they 
will bring up, and do it in the light of his countenance ; and, 
while engaged in it, will be seen constantly raising their eyes 
to him, as if fearful of losing one beam of his light. Others, 
who, to be sure, would not be content to live out of his pres- 
ence, are yet less wholly absorbed by it than these, and may be 
seen a little farther off, engaged here and there in their various 
callings, their eyes generally upon their work, but often looking 
up for the hght which they love. A third class, beyond these, 
but yet within the life-giving rays, includes a doubtful multi- 
tude, many of whom are so much engaged in their worldly 
schemes, that they may be seen standing sideways to Christ, 
looking mostly the other way, and only now and then turning 
their faces towards the light. And yet farther out, amongst the 
last scattered rays, so distant that it is often doubtful whether 
they come at all within their influence, is a mixed assemblage 
of busy ones, some with their backs wholly turned upon the 
sun, and most of them so careful and troubled about their many 
things, as to spare but little time for their Saviour. 

" The reason why the men of the world think so little of 
Christ, is, they do not look at him. Their backs being turned 
to the sun, they can see only their own shadows ; and are, 
therefore, wholly taken up with themselves. While the true 
disciple, looking only upward, sees nothing but his Saviour, and 
learns to forget himself." 

" The growth of grace in the heart may be compared to the 
process of polishing metals. First, you have a dark, opaque 
substance, neither possessing nor reflecting light. Presently, as 
the polisher plies his work, you will see here and there a spark 
darting out ; then a strong light ; till, by and by, it sends back 
a perfect image of the sun which shines upon it. So the work 
of grace, if begun in our hearts, must be gradually and contin- 
ually going on ; and it will not be completed, till the image of 
God can be seen perfectly reflected in us." 

At a church fast, in the time of revival, he mentioned, as 



EDWARD PAYSON. 263 

dangers to be guarded against, and as causes of the suspension 
of divine influences, — 

1. '' Christians, in times of refreshing from the presence of the 
Lord, are apt to be so much taken up in conversing and laboring 
with shmers, that, from concern for the souls of others, they 
neglect their own spiritual interests. This may do very well 
for a time, but in the end will be productive of much evil. I do 
not mean to dissuade you from laboring for the good of others, 
but to warn you to take care of your own souls. 

2. " Christians are in danger, when a revival has continued 
for some time, of praying less for its continuance, and of being 
less thankful for it. They seem to take it for granted, that it 
will go on, as a matter of course ; their prayers grow less fre- 
quent and fervent, and their gratitude less lively, until, at 
length, a case of conversion, which would, at first, have electri- 
fied the whole church, produces scarcely any sensation at all. 
Now, when this is the case, a revival will certainly cease ; for 
God never continues to bestow spiritual favors where they are 
not felt to be such. 

3. " Another reason why revivals do not continue longer, is, 
that there is so much animal excitement mixed with them. It 
is a law of our nature, that the duration of merely animal 
feelings should be in inverse proportion to their strength. These 
are no part of spirituality and holiness ; for the more holy we 
are, the less we shall have of them. Our Saviour had none of 
these feelings. Strive to repress animal feeling, and to be more 
purely spiritual." 

" We read that Nadab and Abihu, on the day of their conse- 
cration to the priesthood, instead of taking holy fire, with which 
to burn incense, took strange, that is, common fire, and were 
punished by immediate death for their presumption. To us this 
may appear a slight offence. We may think one fire equally 
good with another. But our God is a jealous God, and we 
must make our offerings in the manner he has commanded, and 
with a right spirit, or they will be an offence in his sight, and 
he will not accept them." 

Mr. Payson was never more happy than when guiding in- 



264 MEMOIR OF 

quirers to " the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the 
world.'- Some of the '' shniUtudes," by which he endeavored 
to illustrate the nature of experimental religion, and assist in- 
quirers in judging of the character of their own exercises, have 
been preserved in the memory of several of his later converts, 
and will not be unwelcome to any class of readers. They do 
not profess to be reported in precisely his language, and, on this 
account, due allowance must be made. Much of their original 
force and appositeness is doubtless lost. 

" Suppose a number of persons standing by a river's side. 
They are invited to drink of its waters, but they are not thirsty, 
and, therefore, do not desire them. At length their thirst is ex- 
cited, and they look round for a vessel, with which to take up 
some water. But their vessels are all filled with some worth- 
less thing, which they are as yet unwilling to part with. But, 
as their thirst increases, they become willing to relinquish what 
they had thought of so much value, and, finally, emptying 
their vessels of this rubbish, and receiving the water, they 
quench their thirst. Thus it is with sinners : Jesus Christ in- 
vites them to come to him, the Foimtain of living waters. But 
they decline his invitations — their hearts being filled with the 
treasures of earth. They do not thirst for Christ till God 
takes away the love of this world and its vanities, and the 
Holy Spirit fills them with desire to come to him. Then they 
hunger and thirst after righteousness, and are prepared to re- 
ceive Christ." 

" Were a man suddenly precipitated into the sea, and, after 
making ineffectual struggles to save himself, to give up all for 
lost — should he at this crisis perceive a boat approaching, and 
a friendly hand extended for his rescue, he would, at first, 
scarcely credit his senses, or realize that he was safe ; his joy 
would be so great, and his gratitude to his preserver so ardent. 
But after the first transports had subsided, he would feel more 
real pleasure in contemplating the vessel, in admiring the Avis- 
dom apparent in its construction, and its admirable adaptedness 
for saving from death all who were in his late situation, than he 
would when he viewed it merely as the means of saving his own 
life. So the sinner, when he first finds himself rescued from 



EDWARD PAYSON. 265 

destruction, is full of love to Christ for his peculiar and unmer- 
ited mercy to himself But as he increases in knowledge and 
Christian attainments, has clearer views of the character of God, 
and the wisdom and grace which appear in the plan of redemp- 
tion, his love has less and less of selfishness." 

" Suppose two persons equally desirous to gain your affections; 
one far distant, and not expecting to see you for a long time ; 
the other always present with you, and at liberty to use all 
means to win your love, able to flatter and gratify you in a 
thousand ways. Still you prefer the absent one ; and, that you 
may keep him in remembrance, you often retire by yourself to 
think of his love to you, and view again and again the memen- 
tos of his affection, to read his letters, and pour out your heart 
in return. Such is now your case ; the world is always before 
you, to flatter, promise, and please. But if you really prefer to 
love God, you will fix your thoughts on him, often retire for 
meditation and prayer, and recount the pleasant gifts of his 
providence, and especially his infinite mercy to your soul ; you 
will read frequently his holy Word, which is the letter he has 
sent you, as really as if it were directed to you by name." 

" Religion is the golden chain which God lets down from 
heaven, with a link for every person in this room, inviting each 
to take hold, that you may be drawn by it to himself. You 
can readily perceive how disagreeable it would be to be linked 
to one whom you disliked, and drawn by him whithersoever he 
wills; but you would gladly be drawn and guided in every 
thing by the person whom you ardently loved. There is this 
difference between the Christian and the sinner. However re- 
luctant and full of hatred, still the sinner is controlled by God ; 
the Christian is equally in his hands, but is drawn by the cords 
of love." 

" Chrisl said to Mary, Fear not ; I know that you seek Jesus. 
If ye really seek Jesus, he says the same to you. Fear not — 
death, sorrow, sickness, any thing. If they are thus blessed, 
who seek Jesus, what must those be, who have found him 7" 

To an inquirer, who complained that the difficulties in his 
VOL. I. 34 



266 MEMOIR OF 

way increased rather than diminished, he said — " You might 
bind a bird with a soft, silken cord, and, while he remains still, 
he will not be sensible of his confinement ; but as soon as he 
attempts to fly, he will feel the cord that confines him ; and 
the greater his desire and his eflbrts to escape, the more sensible 
will he be of his bondage. So the sinner may long be a 
slave to his sins, and never be aware of it, till he rises to go to 
Christ." 

" Every person has some object which he loves supremely; 
and in every unrenewed man, that object is self. Suppose, for 
illustration, that you have an image, which is, in reality, ex- 
tremely ugly, but which you think beautiful, and you spend all 
your time in polishing and adorning it. At length, however, 
you begin to see something of its deformity, but endeavor to 
conceal it from others, and, if possible, from yourself, by paint- 
ing and dressing it. Notwithstanding all your eflbrts, it grows 
more and more ugly, till at last, in despair of amending it your- 
self, you pray that God would make it more lovely. It is evi- 
dent in this case, that your prayers would not proceed from love 
to God, but from love to your idol ; and, therefore, there would 
be no goodness in them. Suppose that, during all this time, a 
person was entreating you to look at a beautiful diamond statue, 
which you refused to do ; until, wearied with useless efforts to 
make your image appear more beautiful, you turn and look at the 
statue. Immediately you see your idol in all its native deform- 
ity ; you cast aside, and begin to admire and extol the statue. 
This idol represents self, and every unrenewed person admires 
and loves it supremely. When his conscience is awakened to 
see something of his sinfulness, he first endeavors to make him- 
self better ; and it is long before he finds that he cannot change 
his own heart. When he finds that, notwithstanding all his en- 
deavors, his heart seems to grow worse and worse, he prays to 
God for help. It is not from love to God, or because God has 
commanded it, that he prays ; but because he is unwilling to 
see himself so sinful ; so that his prayers arise merely from 
pride and selfishness. But if he will only turn and look to 
Christ, he sees his sins in a new light, and no longer loves him- 
self supremely ; all his affections are transferred to Christ. He 
then prays to be made better, not to gratify his pride, but be- 



EDWARD PAYS^ON. 267 

cause he see something of the beauty of hoUness, and longs to 
resemble his divine Master." 

'' Suppose one man owes another a thousand pounds, but he 
is unable to pay the debt, and denies that he owes it. His 
creditor, being a very compassionate man, says to him, ' 1 do 
not wish for your money, and as soon as you will own the debt 
to be a just one, I will release you from your obhgation ; but I 
cannot do it before, for that would be in fact acknowledging that 
I am in the wrong.' The poor man refuses to confess that he 
owes the money, and is, in consequence, sent to prison. After 
remaining there for a time, he sends his creditor word that he 
will allow he owes him a hundred pounds. But that will not 
do. After another interval, he says he will allow that he owes 
two hundred pounds; and thus he keeps gradually giving up a 
little more, until he gets to nine hundred ; there he stops a long 
while. At length, finding there is no other way of escape, he 
acknowledges the whole debt, and is released. Still it would 
be free, unmerited kindness in the creditor, and the poor man 
would have no right to say, ' I partly deserved it, because I 
owned the debt ;' for he ought to have done that, whether he 
was liberated or not. Just in this manner we have treated God. 
When he comes and charges us with having broken his law, 
we deny it: we will allow, perhaps, that we deserve a slight 
punishment, but not all which God has threatened. But if we 
are ever to be saved, God comes, and, as it were, shuts us up in 
prison ; that is, he awakens our consciences, and sends his 
Spirit to convince us of sin. Thus we every day see more and 
more of the desperate wickedness of our hearts, until we are 
ready to allow that we have deserved eternal condemnation. 
As soon as we acknowledge this, God is ready to pardon us; 
but it is evident that we do not deserve pardon, that he is not 
under the least obligation to bestow it, and that all, who are 
saved, are saved through free, unmerited grace." 

'• One excuse which awakened sinners are accustomed to 
allege in their own defence, is, that they wish to love God, and 
to have new hearts, but cannot. They do indeed wish to be 
saved, but they are not willing to be saved in God's way ; that 
is, they are not willing to accept salvation as a free gift. They 



268 MEMOIR OF 

would do any thing to buy it, but will not take it without 
money and without price. Suppose that you were very sick, 
and were told by the physician, that there was but one medi- 
cine in the world which could save your life, and that this was 
exceedingly precious. You were also told that there was but 
one person in the world who had any of this in his possession ; 
and that, although he was willing to give it to those who asked, 
he would, on no account, sell any. Suppose this person to be 
one whom you had treated with gteat neglect and contempt, in- 
jured in every possible way. How exceedingly unwilling 
would you be to send to him for the medicine as a gift ! You 
would rather purchase it at the expense of your whole fortune. 
You would defer sending as long as possible, and, when you 
found that you were daily growing worse, and nothing else 
could save you, you would be obliged, however reluctantly, to 
send and ask for some. Just so unwilling are sinners to apply 
to God for salvation, as a free gift ; and they will not do it until 
they find themselves perishing, and that there is no other hope 
for them.'' 

'' The young convert, in judging of the reality of his conver- 
sion, generally lays much stress upon having a great deal of 
joy ; and regards that as a very decisive proof that he is a disci- 
ple of Christ. But this is one of the most fallacious proofs, and 
no dependence ought to be placed on it. It is not desirable, at 
first, to have full assurance of our salvation, for our love is then 
v/eak ; and some degree of fear is likewise necessary to keep us 
near to Christ." 

'' Suppose a child accidentally falls into a pit, and when some 
person comes to help him out, instead of thankfully accepting 
the offer, he says, ' No ; I will not have you to help me out ; 
I wish some one else to assist me.' He is told by his father, 
that he shall not be assisted by any other person. Yet he still 
prefers remaining in the pit to accepting that person's offer. 
Does it not indicate strong aversion to him ? Yet it is precisely 
thus that the sinner treats Christ. He is exposed to danger, 
from which none but Christ can deliver him. Yet, rather than 
accept his assistance, he tries every other method again and 
again ; and when he finds all his efforts unsuccessful, he prac^ 



EDWARD PAYSON. 269 

tically says, ' I had rather perish than be saved by Christ/ 
How justly might the Saviour take him at his word, and leave 
him to perish ! " 

'' The manner in which people obtain a false hope is generally 
this : they first believe that God is reconciled to them, and then 
are reconciled to him on that account; but if they thought that 
God was still displeased with, and determined to punish them, 
they would find their enmity to him revive. On the contrary, 
the Christian is reconciled because he sees the holiness of the 
law which he has broken, and God's justice in punishing him; 
he takes part with God against himself, cordially submits to 
him, and this when he expects condemnation. He is reconciled, 
because he is pleased with the character of God ; the false con- 
vert, because he hopes God is pleased with him.'' 

*' It is morally impossible for God to pardon sinners without 
repentance. The moment he should do it, he would cease to be 
a perfectly holy being ; of course, all the songs of heaven would 
stop, and all the happiness of the universe be dried up. In his 
conduct, he is governed by a regard to the good of the whole. 
If a sovereign, out of false pity to criminals, should pardon them 
indiscriminately, he would thus destroy the happiness of all 
his faithful subjects, and introduce misery and confusion into 
his kingdom. But infinitely worse consequences would ensue, 
if God should neglect to punish those who transgress his law. 
His vast dominions would become one universal scene of anarchy 
and confusion ; happiness would be banished forever ; and 
misery, in its most aggravated forms, would prevail throughout 
the universe. Yet all this the sinner would think ought to be 
endured, rather than that he should be obliged to repent of 
his sins." 

" Young converts generally suppose that it is their strong 
faith, which enables them to go to God, and ask to be forgiven, 
without much fear or hesitation ; but faith has less to do with 
it than they imagine. It is because they see little of their own 
sinfulness and God's hatred of sin. If they had clear views of 
these truths, they v/ould find their weak faith very insufficient 
to induce them to go to Christ. Suppose a man, who had never 



270 MEMOIR OF 

seen fire, and who knew its effects only by report, should be 
told that at a certain distant period, he would be obliged to pass 
through a fire. He is told, also, that there is but one kind of 
garment that can protect him from its influence. A person gives 
him this robe, and although it appears to him very thin and 
flimsy, yet he feels very well satisfied with it before he has 
seen the fire. But when the destined lime arrives, and he sees 
the fire blazing out and consuming every thing within its reach, 
his confidence fails. At first, a small degree of faith enables 
the Christian to go to God; but as he advances in the knowl- 
edge of his own heart, and God's hatred of sin, his faith must 
also be increased, to enable him to approach his heavenly 
Father with confidence." 

" The young convert may be compared to a child, whom his 
father is leading over a rugged and uneven path. After pro- 
ceeding for some time without much difliculty, he forgets that it 
has been owing to his father's assistance — begins to think that 
he may now venture to walk by himself, and consequently falls. 
Humbled and dejected, he then feels his own weakness, and 
clings to his father for support. Soon, however, elated with his 
progress, he again forgets the kind hand which sustains him, 
fancies he needs no more assistance, and again falls. This pro- 
cess is repeated a thousand times in the course of the Christian's 
experience, till he learns, at length, that his own strength is 
perfect weakness, and that he must depend solely on his 
heavenly Father." 

" To assist you in estimating the criminality of sin, suppose 
that you had committed the first sin — that, before you were 
born, such a thing had never been heard or thought of; but 
that all beings had united in loving and serving God, till, all at 
once you started up, and began to disobey his commands. 
What a commotion would be excited! Instantly the news 
would spread through heaven and earth, with inconceivable 
rapidity, and all ranks and orders of beings would join in ex- 
claiming, ' It cannot be ! Where is the wretch, who would 
dare to disobey Jehovah V Suppose, then, that you were oblig- 
ed to come forward and stand in the view of the assembled 
universe of myriads of sinless beings, who all regarded you 



EDWARD PAYSON. 271 

with feelings of astonishment, horror, detestation, too strong for 
utterance. How inexpressibly dreadful would sin appear in this 
point of view ! And yet it is, in reality, just as dreadful and as 
criminal to sin now, as if no sin had ever been committed by 
another." 

" The difference between true and false religion may be thus 
illustrated. Suppose a king visits two families of his subjects. 
The mxcmbers of one think it great condescension in him to vis- 
it them : they show him every possible mark of affection and 
respect, and they are filled with regret and unhappiness at his 
departure. The other family have no real love for him , and 
though self-interest prompts them to show him every external 
mark of respect, yet it is constrained, and they are glad when 
he departs. Now, if this king could read the heart, and saw 
that their services were insincere, he could not, of course, be 
pleased ; and the more assiduous they were in their attentions, 
if prompted wholly by self-interest, the more would he be dis- 
gusted. In the same manner, when God, by his Spirit, visits the 
true Christian, it fills him with joy and gladness ; his presence 
is life ; and when he hides his face, nothing can afford pleasure 
or satisfaction. But when thoughts of God enter the mind of 
the sinner, he feels uneasy, and tries to get rid of them. He 
may, from selfish motives, affect to seek God ; but his heart is 
not in it, and he longs after the pleasures of the world. This 
is the way in which all awakened, yet impenitent sinners seek 
God ; and yet they are displeased because he will not accept 
such heartless services." 

'' We are apt to feel as if, by our prayers, we laid God under 
obligation to save us ; as if our feeble, imperfect services were 
' profitable to him.' Suppose a poor beggar should say of some 
rich nobleman, * He is under great obligations to me ;' and, 
when asked, ' Why 7' — should answer, 'I have been everyday, 
for a great many years, and told him a long story of my wants, 
and asked him to help me.' You can see how absurd this ap- 
pears ; and yet it is precisely similar to our conduct, except, in- 
deed, that ours is much more absurd, because the disparity 
between God and us is infinitely greater than can exist between 
any two mortals." 



272 MEMOIR OF 

^'•When sinners have been awakened to see their guilt and 
danger, and are invited to come to Christ and be saved, they 
frequently make such excuses as these — ' I cannot beheve that 
the invitations of the gospel were intended for such sinners as 
I am ; 1 am afraid I do not feel right, and that Christ will not 
receive me.' Suppose a table set in the street, and loaded with 
all kinds of food ; and that a herald is sent to make proclama- 
tion, that all who wish may come and partake freely. A poor 
man comes, and stands looking very wishfully at the table ; 
and, when he is asked why he does not eat, replies — ' O, I am 
afraid the invitation is not meant for me ; I am not fit' Again 
he is assured that the invitation is intended for all those who 
are hungry, and that no other qualification is necessary. Still 
he objects — 'But lam afraid lam not hungry enough.' In 
the same way do sinners deprive themselves, by their own fol- 
ly, of those blessings which are freely offered them by their 
Creator." 

'' Suppose the rebellious subjects of a very wise and good 
king condemned to death. The king has a son, who, from 
compassion to these poor wretches, offers to make satisfaction to 
his father for their crimes, if he will pardon them. The king 
consents on one condition. He places his son at the door of 
his palace, and makes proclamation, that every one who comes 
to him for pardon, and is led in by h\^ son, shall be forgiven for 
his sake. One of the culprits comes, and rejecting the proffer- 
ed hand of the prince, rushes to the thione himself Can 
this man expect mercy ? Thus God has provided a Mediator, 
and commanded all to approach in his name; and none can 
expect to be received, who do not come to God in this appoint- 
ed way." 

" One mark of a true convert is, that he continues to repent 
of his sins, after he hopes that they are pardoned. All that the 
hypocrite desires, is salvation from punishment; and when he 
thinks this end secured, he feels no concern respecting his sins. 
But the true Christian desires to be saved from sin ; and his 
hatred of sin, and repentance for it, increase in proportion as 
liis assurance of heaven increases. Another mark is, that all 
disposition to make excuses is taken away. The repentant siu- 



EDWARD PAtSON. 273 

ner feels willing to lie at God's feet, and confess his sins, with- 
out even wishing to excuse them." 

'•It evinces more depravity not to repent of a sin, than it does 
to commit it at first. A good man may be hurried away by 
temptation to commit a sin, but he will invariably repent of it 
afterwards. To deny, as Peter did, is bad ; but not to weep 
bitterly as he did, Avhen we have denied, is worse." 

" We may have the form of godliness without the power ; 
but it is impossible to have the power without the form." 

" The promises in the Bible to prayer are not made to one 
act, but to the continued habit, of prayer." 
VOL. I. 35 



CHAPTER XV. 



The same subject — Bible class — Pastoral visits — Social parties — Special and 
casual interviews — Charm of his conversation — Singular recounter — 
Whence his competency — ^His publications. 



If there is a spectacle on earth peculiarly animating to the 
thoughtful Christian, who waits and prays for the salvation of 
God, it is the faithful, affectionate pastor, with the Bible in his 
hand, surrounded by the " lambs of his flock," and leading 
them into " green pastures, and beside the still waters." It 
cannot be witnessed without a thrill of unusual delight, and 
anticipations of the most cheering character. There may be 
more of immediate personal enjoyment in the communion of 
saints, and in that foretaste of an eternal feast, which is grant- 
ed to the redeemed of the Lord, when, gathered around the 
sacramental board, they glory in the cross, and celebrate the 
love of Him who died on it, and their faith anticipates the 
hour when they '' shall see Him as he is," and come to the 
heavenly Zion, and commence their everlasting song. But the 
same principle, which causes "joy in heaven over one sinner 
that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, 
who need no repentance," is eminently a principle of benevo- 
lence, which is gratified with every prospect of increase to the 
" great multitude whom no man can number ;" and it is called 
into action, and operates with no ordinary effect, in view of a 
collection of youth, grouped around their beloved spiritual 
teacher, engaged in investigating the truths of the Bible, and 
ascertaining the duties which it enjoins. It is a sight full of 
hope and promise. It is not presumption to expect from it the 
choicest spiritual fruits which a minister is ever permitted to 






MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 275 

reap. It is among this class of his charge, that he may emi- 
nently ''sow in hope." The promises of God authorize him to 
expect extensive and glorious results. It was upon the youth 
that Mr. Payson expended some of his best exertions ; and these 
labors brought him a "harvest of golden sheaves." 

His heart was drawn towards the rising generation, and 
meditated various expedients for advancing their welfare. He 
does indeed, record and lament, among his deficiencies, the 
neglect of special efforts for their instruction and salvation. 
But, compared with what had been the ordinary standard of 
ministerial practice, he abounded in works of this description. 
Though, from the first, he did not fail to give them appropriate 
instruction, yet it was not till the latter years of his ministry, 
that the interesting group, who periodically gathered around 
him, took the designation of "Bible class ;" and at that time his 
manner underwent a slight modification. The subjoined speci- 
mens were furnished by young persons, to whom they were 
blessed : — 

'' A way-faring man stops at a tavern, and to beguile the 
time of his stay there, looks round for some book. He sees, 
perhaps, a newspaper, an almanac, and the Bible ; but chooses 
to pore over either of the former, in preference to the Word 
of God, — thinking it hardly possible to be amused or interest- 
ed in that. Even a Christian will sometimes do thus. — This 
is as if a man should be introduced into an apartment, in one 
division of which were Jesus Christ and the apostles, and in 
the other the most dissolute and frivolous company ; and on 
being invited by the Saviour to sit with them and enjoy their 
company, should refuse, and seat himself with the others. 
Would not this be a most gross insult to the Saviour ? and do 
you not equally undervalue and refuse his company, when you 
thus neglect and despise his holy Word, — through which he 
converses with you, and invites you near to himself, — and 
choose some foolish production instead of it 7" 

"God holds out to you, as it were, a thread, no stronger than 
a spider's web, and says— 'take hold of the thread; I will in- 
crease its strength, day by day, until it becomes the line of sal- 
vation to vou.' So it is with the little uiterest you feel in the 



276 MEMOIR OF 

Bible class. If you cherish this, if you reflect upon what you 
read and hear, and daily pray to be made wise by these instruc- 
tions, God will increase your interestto its consummation, till you 
become perfect ones in Christ Jesus. But if you lose your hold 
on this thread, you are lost." 

The following paragraph illustrates his manner of stating the 
argument, and its application — the subject before the class being 
the evidence from the light of nature, that there • ^ .>v^a: — 

" Suppose, my young friends, that, in travelling through a 
wilderness, a spacious garden should burst upon your view, ni 
the midst of which is a splendid palace. Upon entering it, you 
perceive, in every apartment, proofs of the agency of some 
living person, though you see no one. Complicated machinery 
is moving, and various operations are carried on ; but still the 
agent, who produces these effects, is invisible. - Would you be 
the less convinced that they were produced by some intelligent 
agent 7 And if you should be told, that the palace came there 
by chance, and that all the movements you witnessed were 
caused by no power whatever, you would regard him, who 
should tell you thus, either as a fool or a liar. Now, you have 
the same proof of the existence of God in his works, that you 
would have, in the case I have supposed, of the existence and 
presence of some invisible agent; and it is just as unreasonable 
to doubt of his existence, as it would be to doubt whether the 
palace had been built by any person, or was only the work of 
chance. Suppose you were informed by a writing on the wall, 
that the palace was inhabited or haunted by spirits, who were 
constantly watching your conduct, and who had power to punish 
you, if it displeased them ; and that you were also informed, at 
the same time, of the course of conduct which it would be nec- 
essary to pursue, in order to obtain their approbation. How 
careful would you be to observe the rules and how fearful of 
displeasing those powerful spirits ! And if you were further 
mformed, that these were the spirits of your deceased parents, 
and that they were able to hear, if you addressed them, — how 
delightful it would be to go and tell them of your wants and 
sorrows, and feel sure that they listened to you with sympathy 
and compassion ! — I tell you, my young friends, this world is 



EDWARD PAYSON. 277 

haunted, if I may so express it, — haunted by the Eternal Spirit. 
He has given you rules, by which to regulate your conduct, and 
is able to punish every deviation from them. And can you rec- 
ollect that such a Being is constantly noticing your conduct, 
and still persist in disobeying his commands? God is also your 
Heavenly Father; and why can you not go to him, as such, 
with the same confidence which you would exercise in an earthly 
parent ?" 

In explanation of the command to glorify God: — "It may 
seem strange and presumptuous, to speak of such poor, sinful, 
worthless beings as we are, as glorifying, or as capable of glori- 
fying God. But the perfect Christian may be compared to a 
perfect mirror, which, though dark and opaque of itself, being 
placed before the sun, reflects his whole image, and may be 
said to increase his glory, by increasing and scattering his light. 
In this view we may regard heaven, where God is perfectly 
glorified in his saints, as the firmament studded with ten thou- 
sand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands of mirrors, 
every one of them reflecting a perfect image of God, the Sun in 
the centre, and filling the universe with the blaze of his glory." 

" Whenever you feel any thing within you, my dear young 
friends, urging you to attend to religion, it is the Spirit of God ; 
and if you refuse to comply, you will grieve him away. Sup- 
pose God should let down from heaven a number of very fine 
cords, and if any person should take hold of one,' it would con- 
tinue to grow larger and stronger, till at length he is drawn by 
it into heaven. Great care would be necessary, especially at 
first, not to break it ; for, if once broken, it might never be re- 
newed. How careful should we expect the person to be, to 
whom one of these cords was extended, not to break it, to avoid 
all violence, and follow wherever it led him ! Just so anx' 
iously ought you to cherish those good impressions, which are 
produced on your minds by the Spirit of God ; for if you once 
grieve him, he may never return." 

"Suppose a man builds a temple, with one seat in it very 
high and much ornamented ; and another very far below it. 
You ask him, for whom those seats are designed, and he re- 



278 MEMOIR OF 

plies — ' Why, the most elevated one is for me, and the one be- 
low it is for God.' Now in this case, you can all see the horrible 
absurdity and impiety of such conduct ; and yet each of you, 
who continues impenitent, is doing this. You have given your- 
selves the first place in your affections; you have thought more 
of 3^ourselves than of God, and have done more to please your- 
selves than 10 please God ; in short, you have, in every thing, 
preferred yourselves before him." 

'■• Suppose there was a book, in which the whole of your life 
was recorded, each page of which contained the events of a 
day. At the beginning was written, ' This is the life of a ra- 
tional, immortal, accountable creature, placed in this world to 
prepare for eternity.' Then commences a long catalogue of 
sins ; every page is successively covered with blots. Besides all 
these, there are the sins of omission, or duties neglected, which 
swell to a still greater amount. There are more than fifty com- 
mands binding upon you every moment ; such as, to repent, to 
believe, to love Christ, to watch, pray, <fcc., none of which you 
perform. Thus you commit, to say the least, fifty sins in a 
moment. Add to these the first mentioned class of transgres- 
sions, and, O, what an amount of guilt does the record of each 
day present ! At the bottom of every page, it is written — Did 
this person love God to-day 7 No. Did he feel any gratitude 
for mercies] No. Did he obey any of God's commands? 
No. Did he perform any part of the work for which he was 
created ? No." 

One of his most acceptable methods of communicating in- 
struction, and exciting a religious interest, was by visits to the 
families of his parishioners ; and, though he speaks of himself 
as living extempore, they will cheerfully give him credit for sys- 
tem in this branch of duty. It was a custom which he com- 
menced almost simultaneously with his ministry, to give notice 
from the pulpit, that the families in a particular district, or 
street, might expect him at a given time, in the course of the 
following week, and to request, that, if consistent with their en- 
gagements, they would all be at home ; he wished to see the 
family together. Accordingly, when he entered a house, he 
usually found all in readiness for his reception and could pro- 



EDWARD PAY SON. 279 

ccedj Y/ithout the loss of a moment, to deliver his message. The 
time he spent in a family did not usually exceed twenty or thirty 
minutes ; hut it was completely filled up with religious conver- 
sation and prayer. He could say much in a short time, and 
never failed to " divide a portion to every member," capable of 
receiving it. His " often infirmities " compelled him to relin- 
quish this practice, and, for some years before his death, to hmit 
his visits principally to houses of affliction. But these, in a 
parish comprising thousands of souls, were, necessarily, very 
numerous. 

He did not decline occasional invitations to evening parties, 
as he had given his people to understand, that he desired none to 
send for him, who did not wish him to come as a minister of 
Christ. In this character, however, he was usually a welcome 
guest ; for, though he was invariably serious and faithful, he 
was neither abrupt nor forbidding in his manner of bringing for- 
ward religious topics. The divine Model he had so diligently 
studied, taught him how to avail himself of passing observa- 
tions and occurrences to introduce and enforce man's obligation 
to attend to his highest interests. He always seized the right mo- 
ment to bring forward and urge his Master's claims ; and when 
he had obtained the ground, he v^ras certain not to yield it — 
indeed, none could wish to dispossess him. The subject which 
he so naturally and easily introduced, he would expatiate upon, 
and illustrate, and hold the listening company in fixed and 
solenm attention, from one to three hours. Here were witnessed 
some of the most enrapturing and powerful strains of his sacred 
eloquence. A visiting party, whose conversation was conducted 
by him, had all the advantage of a religious meeting in the ar- 
ticle of instruction, and fell scarcely short in solemnity. To 
him it was often as laborious as a public lecture, as it regards 
both preparation and the exercise of speaking. He usually 
commenced and closed the interview by prayer. 

It is obvious hovvT much such a manner of conducting social 
visits must tend to cultivate and cherish a religious spirit in 
society. Every one has observed, that, as they are often con- 
ducted, a single visit supplies matter for a month's gossip and 
scandal — evils which infect not only the individuals who were 
present, but their families and associates. But social inter- 
course, conducted on Christian principles, precludes these and 



280 MEMOIR OF 

similar evils, besides effecting positive good. The party sepa- 
rate with salutary impressions upon their minds, and carry 
more or less of a holy savor into their respective families. Reli- 
gion becomes the subject of domestic conversation, which is ren- 
dered more intelligent and profitable by the very means which 
too frequently operate as a disqualification for the duty. In 
truth, no finite mind can trace ,all the happy consequences 
which flow from the habit of associating religion with all the 
intercourse and occurrences of life. 

That it was a leading object with him to introduce and ex- 
tend this habit among his people, appears from almost every act 
of his official fife. It accounts, in part, for his remarkable cir- 
cumspection, and mifailing care, to set an example, in his own 
person, of doing all things to the glory of God. It was not 
without reference to this, probably, that he dedicated his own 
private dwelling to God ; or rather, that, when he did this, he 
called in some of his neighbors to participate in the solemnities ; 
and it was not without its influence. He was called, in his 
turn, to officiate on similar occasions for them. A scene of this 
kind is still recollected with lively interest by the members of a 
numerous family. In his prayer, he anticipated almost every 
possible circumstance in their future history with that reverent 
particularity, in which he was, perhaps, unrivalled ; and in such 
select, appropriate, and vivid expressions, as gave the very 
walls of the habitation a tongue that has -not since ceased to 
speak. The thought, that it is a consecrated house, is suited to 
check all tendencies to sinful levity. One of the events antici- 
pated in the prayer has already taken place ; and the children 
of the family, who now are all members of the visible church, 
could tell with what comforting and sustaining power it was 
brought home to their hearts, while surrounding the triumphant 
death-bed of an invaluable mother. 

From the most casual interview with him, the Christian 
could not separate without being instructed, humbled, and re- 
vived ; nor the impenitent sinner, without a topic for reflec- 
tion — perhaps an arrow in his heart. He exemplified one of 
his own remarks — "Our unconverted friends should feel that 
our whole deportment, and even our very silence, declares that 
we earnestly seek their salvation." 

A circumstance which gave to his company one of its most 



EDWARD PAYSON. 281 

attract! \re charms, was his great condescension and affability, 
which entirely relieved the interlocutors of all embarrassment. 
No matter how awkwardly or defectively they expressed their 
difficulties, or proposed their queries — it was enough for him that 
he knew their meaning. He took no advantage of these defects, 
to mortify them and show off his own superiority ; he never 
asked them to repeat and '' define precisely what they wanted," 
• — a chilling practice with some affectedly wise and accurate 
men, which must effectually silence the weak and illiterate, and 
cut off from them all hope of improvement : — he took this labor 
upon himself. If he perceived them in danger of embarrass- 
ment, he would interpose and help them out. The most broken 
and imperfect expressions were sufficient to indicate to him the 
exact wants and feelings of the speaker. So truly was this the 
case, that his knowledge of others' thoughts would appear to a 
witness almost intuitive ; and he was equally prompt to apply 
the appropriate counsel. It was from ignorance of his power of 
perception, in this re'spect, that some have spoken of his inquiry 
meetings, during the latter half of his ministry, as more properly 
entitled to the appellations of lectures, or meetings for exhorta- 
tion. But his remarks were as really predicated on the known 
states of mind in the assembly, as they ever are in any inquiry 
meeting, however conducted. The truth is, besides watching 
the individual characters of his charge for years, he had so 
thoroughly studied the moral and spiritual nature of man, in 
connexion with the Scriptures, that he could distinguish the 
symptoms which indicate the state of the heart, with as much 
readiness and certainty, as the most skilful physician can those 
of bodily disease. 

It was not to man in one attitude or situation only, that he 
could adapt himself, but to men in all situations, and of every 
variety of rank and character, and every degree of intellectual 
culture. A bereaved husband, in another town, to whom he 
was known only by report, but whose wife's obsequies he provi- 
dentially attended, inquired, some time after the funeral, if Mr. 
Payson had married a second wife, — inferring, from his prayer, 
that he knew, experimentally, the feelings inseparable from a 
state of widowhood. 

The following imperfectly described rencounter with a lawyer 
of Portland, who ranked among the first in the place for wealth, 

VOL. I. 36 



282 MEMOIR OF 

and was very fluent withal, will serve to show Mr. Payson's 
insight into character, and his power to mould it to what form he 
pleased, and, at the same time, prove, what might be confirmed 
by many other instances, that his conquests were not confined 
<o " weak women and children :" — 

A lady, who was the common friend of Mrs. Pay son and the 
lawyer's wife, was sojourning in the family of the latter. After 
the females of the respective families had interchanged several 

'' calls," Mrs. was desirous of receiving a formal visit 

from Mrs. Payson ; but, to effect this, Mr. Payson must also be 
invited ; and how to prevail with her husband to tender an 
invitation, was the great difficulty. He had been accustomed 
to associate experimental religion with meanness, and, of course, 
felt or affected great contempt for Mr. Payson, as if it were 
impossible for a man of his religion to be also a man of talents. 
He knew, by report, something of Mr. Payson's practice on such 
occasions, and, dreading to have his house the scene of what 
appeared to him a gloomy interview, resisted his wife's proposal 
as long as he could and retain the character of a gentleman. 
When he gave his consent, it was with the positive determina- 
tion that Mr. Payson should not converse on religion, nor ask a 
blessing over his food, nor offer a prayer in his house. He col- 
lected his forces, and made his preparation, in conformity with 
this purpose, and, when the appointed day arrived, received his 
guests very pleasantly, and entered, at once, into animated con- 
versation, determined, by obtruding his own favorite topics, to 
forestall the divine. It was not long before the latter discovered 
his object, and summoned together his powers to defeat it. He 
plied them with that skill and address for which he was 
remarkable ; still, for some time, victory inchned to neither side, 
or to both alternately. — The lawyer, not long before, had return- 
ed from Washington city, where he had spent several weeks on 
business at the supreme court of the United States. Mr. Payson 
instituted some inquiries respecting sundry personages there, 
and, among others, the chaplain of the house of representatives. 
The counsellor had heard him perform the devotional services 
in that assembly. " How did you like him?" — " Not at all ; he 
appeared to have more regard to those around him than he did 
to his Maker." — Mr. Payson was very happy to see him recog- 
nize the distinction between praying to God, and praying to be 



EDWARD PAYSON. 283 

heard of men, and let fall a series of weighty observations on 
prayer, passing into a strain of remark, which, without taking 
the form, had all the eifect, on the lawyer's conscience, of a 
personal application. From a topic so miwelcome, he strove to 
divert the conversation, and, every few minutes. Avould start 
something as wide from it as the east is from the west. But, as 
often as he wandered, his guest would dexterously, and without 
violence, bring him back ; and, as often as he was brought back, 
he would wander again. At length the trying moment which 
was to turn the scale arrived. The time for the evening repast 
had come ; a servant had entered with the tea and its accom- 
paniments ; the master of the feast became unusually eloquent, 
resolved to engross the conversation, to hear no question or 
reply, to allow no interval for '' grace," and to give no indication 
by the eye, the hand, or the lips, that he expected or wished for 
such a service. Just as the distribution was on the very point 
of commencing, Mr. Payson interposed the question — '' What 
writer has said the devil invented the fashion of carrying round 
tea, to prevent a blessing being asked 7" Our host felt himself 
" cornered ;" but, making a virtue of necessity, promptly repli- 
ed — "I don't know what writer it is; but, if you please, we 
will foil the devil this time; — Will you ask a blessing, sir 7" — A 
blessing, of course, was asked, and he brooked, as well as he 
could, this first certain defeat, still resolved not to sustain 
another by the offering of thanks on closing the repast. But in 
this, too, he was disappointed. By some well-timed sentiment 
of his reverend guest, he was brought into such a dilemma, 
that he could not, without absolute rudeness, decline asking him 
to return thanks. And thus he contested every inch of his 
ground, till the visit terminated. But, at every stage, the min- 
ister proved too much for the lawyer. He sustained his char- 
acter as a minister of religion, and gained his point in every 
thing; and that, too, with so admirable a tact, in a way so nat- 
ural and unconstrained, and with such respectful deference to 
his host, that the latter could not be displeased, except with 
himself. Mr. Payson not only acknowledged God on the recep- 
tion of food, but read the Scriptures and prayed before separa- 
ting from the family — and did it, too, at the request of the 
master, though this request was made, in every successive 
instance, in violation of a fixed purpose. The chagrin of this 



284 MEMOIR OF 

disappointment, however, eventually became the occasion of his 
greatest joy. His mind was never entirely at ease till he found 
peace in believing. Often did he revert, with devout thankful- 
ness to God, to the visit which had occasioned his mortification, 
and ever after regarded, with more than common veneration 
and respect, the servant of God, whom he had once despised, 
and was glad to receive his ministrations in exchange for those 
on which he had formerly attended. 

His knowledge was not, as many have supposed, limited 
chiefly to theology. He was familiar, beyond what is common, 
with the whole circle of the sciences — so much so that eminent 
men, of the different professions, who have incidentally met 
Avith him, without knowing who he was, have, for the first 
half hour of their conversation, mistaken him for one of their 
own class. By physicians he has been thought a physician, and 
a lawyer by lawyers ; and even the experienced senator has 
found him an invincible antagonist, on ground which his profes- 
sion merely would not require him to assume. 

He never ceased to add to his stock of knowledge ; and his 
intelligent manner of conversing, on any topic whatever, would 
excite less of wonder, if the amount of his reading were known. 
He was a subscriber for Ree's Cyclopedia, and read the num- 
bers, generally throughout, as they successively issued from the 
press. He has been reputed a great novel reader; but this report, 
as it would be naturally understood, misrepresents him. He 
expended little money or time on books of this class, after having 
turned his attention to the ministry. He knew something of 
every fictitious work which was introduced into the place; but 
this knowledge was gained, perhaps, in an hour's time, in some 
retired corner of a book-store, which was kept by one of his 
parish. He had good reasons for knowing what kind of books 
circulated among his people, and especially if any of them were 
immoral in their tendency. If he read them on his own account, 
it was for mere relaxation, from which his vigorous and Avell- 
balanced mind derived strength and freshness for more solid 
pursuits. 

His own views of a proper course of reading to be pursued 
by a Christian were once given, extempore, in conversation, 
from Avhich it will be seen, that novels have, at most, but a very 
dubious place : — 



EDWARD PAYSON. 285 

•' It may be proper, and perhaps advantageous, for a Christian 
to read, sparingly, works of taste. Some knowledge of the 
philosophy of the mind is desirable, and may be obtained with- 
out very great expense of time. Church history, and a knowl- 
edge of ancient Eastern customs, will be very useful. Every 
kind of knowledge which expands, strengthens, and adorns the 
mind, may be properly sought by the Christian, and ought to be 
sought by every Christian who has leisure and opportunity for 
reading. Our aim in seeking it, should be to qualify ourselves 
to serve and glorify God more effectually, and to increase our 
power of being useful to our fellow-creatures. It is an old 
remark, that 'knowledge is power. ' To increase our knowledge, 
then, is to increase our power of doing good. Highly as I prize 
such writers as Fenelon, Kempis, &c., I am convinced we may 
study them, not, perhaps, too much, but too exclusively. We 
may study them to the exclusion of other writers, whose works 
demand our attention; and we may be so intent upon watching 
our feelings, as to forget to watch our words and actions. As 
some are content with a religion which is all body, so others 
may aim at a religion which is all soul ; but religion has a body, 
as well as a soul. If some think it sufficient to cleanse the out- 
side of the cup, others may be so much occupied in cleansing 
it withm, as to forget that it has an outside. Both deserve 



The press, which is, with some, their principal means of use- 
fulness, was very little employed by Mr. Payson, He cherished 
a very low estimate of his own qualities as a writer, and could 
rarely be persuaded to submit a production for publication. 
To a request, from a maternal association in Boston, for the 
copy of a sermonof a specified character, he replied — ''It would 
gratify me exceedingly to comply with the request. There is no 
honor, no favor, that God can bestow, which I should prize 
more highly than that of doing good with my pen — of leaving 
something behind me to speak for Christ when I am silent in 
dust. But this honor. He who distributes his gifts to every man 
as he will, does not see fit to grant me. My sermons will not 
bear perusal. I must resign the privilege of doing good with 
the pen to those who are more able." He certainly undervalued 
himself as a writer, or else the Christian public have widely 



286 MEMOIR OF 

erred in their estimation of the very few pubhcations to which, 
during his hfe time, he consented. His discourse before the Bi- 
ble Society of Maine, in 1814, was the first which he suffered 
to go to press ; and the myriads of copies, which have been put 
in circulation, show in what manner it is appreciated. And 
yet, while correcting the press, he says of it — "It seemed so flat, 
I would have given any thing to recall it from the press." 

The success of this sermon is a good comment on the secret 
history of its origin: — 

*'May 2, 1814. Monday. Was so much exhausted, that I 
could scarcely move. Made a few visits. Tried to write ; but 
felt that I could as soon make a world as write a sermon for 
Thursday, without special divine assistance. 

*'May 3. Was employed all the forenoon in preparing a 
sermon to be preached before the Bible Society. Felt that I was 
utterly incapable of it, and that if I was enabled to write one, 
the glory would not be mine. Prayed for assistance with a 
strong hope of obtaining it. Made a few visits. 

*'May 4. Was employed upon my sermon, and was favored 
with considerable assistance. Felt, 1 hope, some thankfulness. 
But all my prayers for assistance, as well as my thankfulness 
for it, are so mixed with selfishness, that they are worse than 
nothing. In the afternoon, attended the funeral of my oldest 
deacon. Wished to be suitably affected, and to see others so. 
Found a large concourse of people assembled, made a few ob- 
servations to them, but was much straitened. 

*'May 5. Completed my sermon. Felt much dissatisfied 
with it. Prayed that it might be blessed to convey more to the 
minds of others than it did to my own. In the evening, preach- 
ed : a most oppressive air, and I spoke with difficulty. Con- 
cluded, from observations made after meeting, that the sermon 
might have done some good ; if so, to God belongs all the glory, 
and to him may I be enabled to ascribe it." 

"Portland, May 24, 1814. 

"Not long after you receive this, you may expect a letter in 
print: that is to say, a discourse, which I have been compelled, 
sadly against my will, to give into the hands of the printer. It 
is a discourse lately delivered before the Bible Society. Fifteen 



EDWARD PAYSON. 287 

hundred copies were subscribed for, and a promise made, that 
the profits should go to purchase Bibles. Finding that the 
profits would be suflacient to purchase, at least, one hundred 
and fifty Bibles, I could not in conscience refuse. So, as soon 
as it comes from the press, which will be in a very few days, 
you will probably receive one. Do, my dear parents, pray, 
pray earnestly for the poor orphan, that it may do good in the 
world. I have never been assisted to pray so much for any 
one sermon as this; and that encouraged me to let it see the 
light. If it never does any other good, it will be the means of 
giving the Bible to many who would otherwise remain without 
it." 

A very excellent Thanksgiving Sermon was also given to the 
public in 1820, for a similar reason, viz. a promise, which was 
amply fulfilled^ that it should be made to produce something 
for missionary purposes. 

His ''Address to Seamen" was the next in order of his pub- 
lications. Men, affecting considerable pretensions to literature, 
have been heard to speak of this production as a gross violation 
of good taste. But the author knew his object, and the way in 
which he could best accomplish it. He was not writing an ora- 
tion for the alumni of a college, nor an article for a Quarterly 
Review, nor a "pretty discourse" for a fashionable auditory, 
but an address to seamen. He had enjoyed more than common 
advantages for studying the character of this class of his fellow 
men, and imderstood their vocabulary almost as well as them- 
selves — so well, that an experienced sea-captain was able to 
detect, in the whole address, but a single nautical term whose 
application involved a misconception of its use. As a model, it 
would be dangerous to imitate it — the attempt, indeed, would 
be ridiculous. But if it is not a good address, the public is 
strangely erroneous in its "taste," and the effect which it pro- 
duced, not only on its hearers, but on its readers, far and wide, 
is wholly unaccountable. Its popularity, from the very first, 
has been unrivalled by any thing of its kind. Copies of it have 
been multiplied to an extent past computation. It has been 
translated into some of the languages of the old world, and 
pretty extensively circulated on the coasts of the Mediterranean, 



288 MEMOIR OF 

from the press at Malta. And, if report be true, some divines 
of the mother country have not thought it disgraceful to claim 
a parental relation to it. Still it was no labored production ; it 
was happily conceived, but the author does not appear to have 
laid himself out to produce any thing very extraordinary. It 
was thrown off almost at a sitting, and at a time when he was 
"encompassed with infirmities," and heavily pressed by other 
labors. This is evident from his private record : — 

" Oct. 22, 23, 1821. Very unwell these two days. Could 
do nothing, although 1 have four sermons to prepare this week. 
Was, for a moment, tempted to murmur ; but the recollection 
of God's past kindness and faithfulness prevented me, and 
caused faith to revive. 

" Oct. 24. Was better to-day ; and wrote almost the whole 
of an address to seamen, to be delivered Sabbath evening. 
Felt some degree of gratitude, and resolved never to refuse to 
improve any opportunity of doing good because I seemed not to 
have time for it. 

" Oct. 25. Was furnished with a suitable text and sermon 
for this evening, without much labor. How graciously and 
wisely does God deal with me ! How much I ought to love and 
trust him ! Tried to preach my sermon to myself. Went to the 
house of God in much such a frame as I should wish to go ; but 
had no assistance in preaching, and got through with difficulty. 
But felt satisfied that it should be so, and was enabled to re- 
joice in the Lord. 

" Oct. 26. Was assisted to-day in writing, and had a pre- 
cious season in prayer. 

"Oct. 27. Sick to-day — a violent head-ache, with some 
fever. Did not see how I could complete my preparation for 
to-morrow, but felt satisfied and easy. Saw it was best I should 
have some rebuff; took courage from it, and hope that God 
meant to bless my labors to-morrow. In the evening, wrote 
considerable, notwithstanding my head-ache ; and, after I re- 
tired, was almost painfully happy, rejoicing in God with joy 
unspeakable and full of glory. 

" Oct. 28. Sabbath. Some better this morning. Finished 
a sermon for the afternoon, on increasing in the knowledge of 
God. Was almost insupportably happy, and could hardly re- 



EDWARD PAY SON. 289^ 

fraiu from shouting aloud for joy. Was assisted in praying for 
otliers; yet had no assistance in pubUc prayer or preaching. 
In the evening, preached to seamen — an overflowing house; 
aisles and pulpit stairs full, and hundreds went away who 
could not get in. Was enabled to go through tolerably. As 
soon as 1 came down, was beset so importunately for a copy for 
the press, that I could not refuse." 

''Portland, Nov. 25, 1821. 

'* My Address to Seamen is published, and I shall send you 
one with this. They have printed nine thousand copies ; three 
thousand in the sermon form, and six thousand in the form of a 
tract. They mean to send them to every seaport in the United 
States. I know you will pray that a blessing may go with it. 
It produced a great effect upon seamen and others for a time : 
but I do not know that any have been really awakened by it. 
One hundred and forty sailors applied, the next day, for Bibles, 
most of whom paid for them. I could not but wonder to see God 
work by it. I had only ten days' notice, and, during that time, 
had to prepare and preach six sermons, besides the Address, and 
another sermon which I did not preach." 

" Dec. 26. 

"If I do not feel thankful for any other favor which God 
gives me, I do feel some gratitude when he enables me to do 
any thing which gives pleasure to the heart of my mother. If 
you were dead, one half the gratification I feel, when I publish 
any thing which is well received, would be gone. I should also 
lose one half of my hopes, that any thing I publish will do good ; 
for I build my hopes very much on your prayers for a blessing. 
I suppose you or H. sent me the Keene paper, which contains 
my Address. It has been published in two other papers, and in 
a Baptist Magazine at Boston ; and I have just received a letter 

from Professor P.'s wife, at , in behalf of a number of ladies 

there, who wish to publish a large edition, in the form of a tract. 
I have requested our church to pray that a blessing may go with 
it, and I doubt not you will continue to pray. If it does any 
good, it will be owing to prayer." 

His other pubUcation was a sermon, preached before the 
'' Marine Bible Society of Boston," entitled " The Oracles of 
VOL. I. 37 



290 MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAY SON. 

God" — a much more labored production than either of his other 
published discourses, and yet, for some cause, it has been far 
less popular. Besides these, he furnished one or two manu- 
script sermons for the National Preacher, which appeared soon 
after his decease. 



CHAPTEE XVI. 



His exertions without the bounds of his parish — Influence on his ministerial 
associates ; in resuscitating and edifying other churches — Visits " The 
Springs" — Effect of his example, conversation, and prayers on other 
visitors — Excursions in behalf of charitable societies — Translation of 
ministers — He is invited to Boston and New York. 



It is not easy to estimate the usefulness of a man in public 
life, whose numerous relations bring him into contact with his 
fellow men, in a great variety of circumstances. A minister of 
the gospel, especially at this day, is not an insulated individual, 
whose influence is limited by parochial bounds. His presence, 
counsel, example, prayers, give shape, tone, direction, energy, to 
public institutions for enlightening the human species, alleviating 
its sufferings, and extending the empire of holiness. It is, 
indeed, no slight honor to be permitted to feed and build up a 
single branch of the church of God. To see the number of be- 
lievers multiplied, and converted sinners joining themselves to 
tlie people of God, as the fruit of his labors, is an adequate re- 
ward for the pastor's most arduous toils, and for all the solici- 
tude, with which his anxious bosom is afflicted. And yet the 
increase and edification of his own particular charge may be 
only a small part of the good which is to be traced, more or less 
directly, to his instrumentality. The many hundreds, to whom 
Mr. Payson's labors were blessed in the place of his residence, 
and whom it was his happiness to welcome to the church under 
his special supervision, are only a part, and ma}'- be found a 
small part, of the gems which will embellish his crown of re- 
joicing in the day of the Lord. To ascertain the whole amount 



292 MEMOIR OF 

of his usefulness, we must know the nature and degree of his 
influence upon his fellow laborers in the ministry, — the effect of 
his occasional labors in different and distant parts of the country, 
his agency in raising the tone of piety ni all the churches which 
could be reached by his influence, the results of his powerful 
pleadings in behalf of religious and charitable enterprises, of his 
counsel in ecclesiastical concerns, and as one of the guardians 
of the principal seminary of learning in Maine, — all, in short, 
that flowed from his conscientious and ever watchful regard, 
wherever he was, and with whomsoever he met, to the apostoli- 
cal precept — '' Consider one another, to provoke unto love and 
to good works." 

It is not intended here to give him a character at the expense 
of his brethren, or to introduce their names as a foil to his ex- 
cellences. Such comparisons are always invidious ; and, be- 
sides, where many are associated in the same cause, it is difii- 
cult, indeed impossible, to define the precise degree of influence 
which ought to be ascribed to each ; though all, probably, will 
admit Mr. Payson's claim to a large share ; and not a few, on 
reviewing the past, will see, in the exigencies of the churches iu 
this region, and in the existing standard of ministerial disinter- 
estedness and zeal, causes of thankfulness to that gracious Provi- 
dence which raised up and sent such a man among them. 

His presence in the ministerial association to which he be- 
longed, though often prevented by the frequent recurrence of 
his agonizing " head-ache," and by duties at home, which he 
could not dispense with, was highly valued by a majority of his 
brethren. He was a strong advocate for devoting the first part 
of the time occupied by such meetings, to social prayer. Prayer 
was his own preparation for every duty ; and he felt it to be 
equally important, that it should be a common preparation for a 
social duty. When on a council for the ordination of a minis- 
ter, he was always on the watch for some interval of time, to 
be consecrated to united prayer, with particular reference to the 
occasion and its consequences. In ministers' meetings, whether 
the immediate object were mutual edification, or a solution were 
requested of cases of conscience, and other difficulties which 
often arise in the discharge of the sacred office, or trying cases of 
discipline were presented for advisement, he was always ready 
to speak in his turn, and always spoke to the purpose. A topic 



EDWARD PAYSON. 293 

seldom passed him without fresh eUicidation. Any proposi- 
tion, which hore the least trace of a time-serving policy, or 
mere worldly wisdom, he would instantly discountenance. 
The writer has known him to do this, at once and effectually, 
by a very few words of his own, pomted with one of Wither- 
spoon's " Characteristics." 

He occasionally performed services for other parishes, of most 
auspicious bearing on the cause of religion ; services which 
thousands have regretted that his health and engagements would 
not permit him to repeat. The nature of the services alluded 
to will be seen by an extract : — 

" Portland, Jan. 7, 1814. 
** My dear mother: — Not long after your return, I went to 
-, a town about forty miles from this, on a week's mis- 



sionary excursion. They are in a wretched state — have had no 
settled minister for seven years. The only minister they ever 
had proved an intemperate man. He is still living in the place, 
and does all he can to prejudice the people against the gospel 
and all who preach it. Before I proceed, I must take a little 
shame to myself, that God's goodness may appear more con- 
spicuous. I commenced my ride by going to G., to obtain Mr. 
H. to preach for me during my absence. The next morning, it 
stormed violently ; then I began to repent of my undertaking. 
However, I was ashamed to go back ; so on 1 went in the 
storm. I was tolerably good-natured the first part of the day, 
but the storm and the road grew worse and worse. First it was 
all mire and clay, then nothing but hills and stones. I began to 
groAV cross. Every bad jolt made me worse, till I felt as bad 
as Jonah did, and was ready to say with him — ' I do well to be 
angry.' Being in this frame, I concluded, of course, that I 
should do no good, wished myself at home a thousand times, 
and more than half resolved that I would never have anything 
to do with a missionary tour again. However, I arrived safe 
and began my labors, and soon found that I was not laboring 
alone. I cannot go into particulars. Suffice it to say, that in 
no place, not even in Portland, have I ever seen so much of 
God's power displayed, in the same space of time, as during 

the six days I spent in . I preached six times, and made 

between forty and fifty family visits. Many were awakened — 



294 



MEMOIR OF 



almost all were solemn. One old man of seventy, among the 
wealthiest in the place, who has always heen against doing any 
thing towards the settlement of a minister, was very deeply 
impressed, and has promised to give three hundred dollars 
towards a fund. Two others will give three hundred more 
each. I was obliged to return home, on account of church fast 
and communion ; but they have sent for me to come up again, 
and next week. Providence permitting, I shall go. Thus was 1 
shamed and confounded by God's goodness. This is not ail. I 
came home thoroughly drenched by the shower of divine influ- 
ences, v/hich began to fall at , and soon found that the 

cloud had followed me, and was beginning to pour itself down 
upon my people. Instead of a fast, we appointed a season of 
thanksgiving. A blessing seemed to follow it. I then invited 
the young men of the parish to come to my house, on Sabbath 
evening, for rehgious purposes. The church thought none 
would come. I expected twenty at most. The first evening 
forty came ; the second, sixty ; and the third, seventy. This 
was the last Sabbath. Six stopped, after the rest were dismis- 
sed, to converse more particularly respecting divine things. 
About thirty persons are known to be seriously inquiring, and 
there is every appearance that the work is spreading. Mean- 
while, I am so ashamed, so rejoiced, and so astonished, to see 
what God is doing, that I can scarcely get an hour's sleep." 

No account of his second visit has been preserved. The 
hopes, however, which had been excited by his first, were not 
disappointed. The change, which then commenced, prevailed, 
and was permanent. In the following spring, a candidate, who 
had completed his preparation for the ministry under Mr. Pay- 
son's instruction, visited the place, and, during his first week, 
*' found ten persons who entertained a hope, and heard of others ; 
and, in sixteen families whom he had visited, more or less were 
inquiring, and, in some instances, whole families. Religion was 
almost exclusively the topic of conversation, and the whole soci- 
ety appeared solemn. The subscriptions to a fund, for the sup- 
port of a Calvinistic minister of the gospel, had amounted to 
three or four thousand dollars.' This young preacher soon 
became the estabhshed minister of the place. Such were the 
results of one short missionary excursion. 



EDWARD P A Y S O N . 295 

About tlirce years later, by particular request, he spent a 
week ill another town, where some religious attention had com- 
menced. It was a season of great solemnity. At his sugges- 
tion, the church assembled and renewed their covenant, Avhose 
bonds, for a long time, had been but little felt. Their pastor led 
the way by acknowledging his deficiencies, and then imploring 
forgiveness and strength for time to come, renewed his engage- 
ments to the Lord and his people. His wife followed his exam- 
ple, and was succeeded by the members of the church. During 
this visit, Mr. Payson preached thirteen sermons, besides attend- 
ing the less public meetings, and conversing Avith inquirers and 
the impenitent , and yet he was scarcely sensible of fatigue till 
he left the spot. He " was so happy, that he thought he might 
have exerted himself till he expired, without knowing that he 
needed rest." Of five persons, the fruits of this revival, who 
were propounded to the church at one time, four were above 
seventy years of age. 

A service, not very dissimilar in kind, he once performed for 
sv-veral churches in his own neighborhood, as one of a committee 
of the Cumberland conference, much to their acceptance, and, it 
is hoped, to their spiritual advantage. 

During his public life, Mr. Payson made several journeys to 
the springs at Ballston and Saratoga, for the recovery of his 
wasted health. The mixed characters, collected together at 
this place of fashionable resort, found him the judicious and 
earnest advocate of liis Master's cause. Here he was no less 
bent on the ruling purpose of his heart, than when at home, 
among his own favorite flock. A visitor from another state, 
who took lodgings in the same house with himself, and preserv- 
ed some of his remarks and topics of discourse, testifies that it 
was Mr. Payson's usual practice, in the evening, to read the 
Scriptures at a stated hour, and offer prayer, which was attend- 
ed by most of the family and boarders, and to spend a half 
hour, after prayer, in religious conversation with all who were 
disposed to remain. He always found many willing to hear, 
and the number continually increased. He observed to the 
visitor above alluded to, that the time spent at the springs would 
not appear so much like a blank, if he should be permitted to 
do any thing for the cause of Christ. This privilege was grant- 
ed him; for many left that boarding-house with deep religious 



2% IVI E 1\I I R OF 

impressions, produced tlirough his instrumentality. One young 
man, Avho had resolved on finding new lodgings, because 
there was " so much praying" where he was, became the 
subject of deep conviction, the very evening he expressed such 
a determination. The gentleman, on whose authority ihcs-e 
facts are stated, observes of his prayers — "They contain a 
great deal of instruction, as well as devotion. He has a happy 
faculty of making his prayers preach." Yet, while his conver- 
sation and prayers were so impressive, and so full of instruction 
to others, he mourns over his own dulness, as though •' the 
waters had washed every idea out of his head, and every feeling 
out of his heart." 

The events alluded to in the foregoing paragraph, occurred in 
1815. Of the impression produced by a subsequent visit, some 
idea may be formed from the following letter, addressed to the 
compiler : — 

'' East Windsor, Conn., Nov. 2, 1829. 

" On his way to Niagara, Dr. Pay son called at my 

house, purposing to rest awhile, and try the benefit of the 
waters. I had heard much of this excellent man, but never 
saw him till this time ; and the impression he made on my 
mind, at this first interview, will not soon be forgotten. I was 
struck Avith the perfect simplicity and great dignity of his man- 
ners. His countenance Avas ' care-worn,' and he had the appear- 
ance of one sinking under the load of human infirmities, and 
sighing for rest. 

TV tI^ ^ ^ ^ T^ "^ 

'' Speaking of his trials on one occasion, he observed to me — 
* I have needed, ail along, to be under the discipline of Heaven; 
for nothing else could have kept me humble, and saved me from 
perdition. I have ever been prone to depart from God, and have 
been kept only by a constant effort of his love. It seems to me 
if God had not continually held the rod over me, and hedged up 
my way, I should have escaped from his hands, and been forever 
separated from his love.' — I expected, in answer to my inquiries, 
to hear of the victories of his faith; but he spoke only of the 
wonderful power of God, which had kept him, and of his love 
to one so unworthy and perverse. He spoke of his ' fierce 
temptations,' and how he had been delivered by the mere 
mercy of God, and v/ondered that God should concern himself 



EDWARD PAYSON. 297 

about such a worm, and that he did not leave him to be torn 
and devoured by Satan. In all my conversation with this won- 
derful man, I never heard him utter a word that bordered on 
boasting, or savored of pride; but he seemed to have a surpris- 
ing sense of his own unworthiness, and of the amazing love of 
God in making himself known to him, and giving him a hope 
in his mercy. 

"Among the virtues of our friend's character, that of humil- 
ity appeared eminently beautiful and lovely, and shone in his 
whole deportment. In prayer, his soul lay low before God. 
He frequently took part in family devotion, and here he excelled 
all the men I ever heard. He carried us up, and placed us all 
in the divine presence ; and, when he spread forth his hands to 
God, heaven seemed to come down to earth, and the glory of 
the Lord shone around our tabernacle. He knew our wants, 
and he expressed them in language simple and affecting. He 
knew our miseries, and he told them all in such tones of tender- 
ness and sympathy, as made us feel that a friend was pleading 
our cause. While this holy man has talked with God, and 
seemed to be overshadowed with the divine glory, I have some- 
times thought I could imagine what must have been the ecstasy 
of Peter, when surrounded with the glories of the transfigura- 
tion scene. At these solemn seasons, when our brother has 
been pouring out his heart in deep complaints of sin, and in 
fervent petitions for mercy, it has seemed as though the cloud 
of the divine presence covered the household, and the divine 
majesty was very near us. 

"The only exercise Dr. Payson performed in public, while 
with us, was the baptism of my youngest child. Some, who 
heard his baptismal prayer, observed, afterwards, that the sub- 
ject of infant baptism had never been exhibited to them in so 
convincing and solemn a light, and that they had never been so 
thoroughly impressed with the obligations of religious parents, 
and the covenant rights of their children. 

" In the bosom of a private family. Dr. Payson hoped to es- 
cape notice, and find rest from the vexations of company. But 
he could not be long concealed ; his retreat was soon discovered, 
and visitors thronged to see him, 

" Our domestic circle was often enlivened by the presence and 
the conversation of Dr. Payson. The children were not unno- 
voL. I. 38 



298 MEMOIR OF 

ticed by him, but shared largely in his attentions ; and he seem- 
ed to take delight in sharing the toils of the nursery. Often 
would he take the child from the arms of its mother, and carry 
it for hours together, and sing some little air to divert it. His 
conversations were, for the most part, of a religious cast. He 
seemed inclined to dwell on melancholy subjects, and the strains 
of the mourning prophet suited him best. Yet now and then 
would he dwell on the sublime and animating themes of relig- 
ion ; and, when he began on an exalted strain, he was surpass- 
ingly eloquent and instructive. He would seize hold of some 
thought, and pursue it until it expanded and glowed under the 
splendor of his imagery. On one occasion, he spoke of the 
probable condition of the soul of the believer when dying. At 
this awful period, when gasping in the agonies of death, and 
apparently insensible to every thing around him, he supposed 
the world to be wholly shut out; •and in this condition, while 
friends stand around, and tremble to think of the unknown ag- 
onies he may be enduring, he supposes the hght of God's coun- 
tenance is pouring in upon the soul, rendering him insensible to 
all his pains, and the soul is struggling and panting to escape 
from the crumbling tenement, and be at rest in the bosom of 
God. — I can only give you the idea ; it is impossible to reach 
his description. He seemed to dwell in a spiritual world, and 
to be most conversant with spiritual objects. This he manifest- 
ed ' by pureness, by knowledge, by love unfeigned.' He talked 
about death as we would talk about going from one place to 
another ; and, if any might adopt the language of Watts, much 
more might he : — 

" Receive my clay, thou treasurer of death ; 

I will no more demand my tongue 

Till the gross organ well refined, 

Shall trace the boundless flights of an unfettered mind, 

And raise an equal song." 

" I add no more ; only that the visit of Dr. Payson at my 
bouse left this impression upon our minds — not to be forgetful 
to entertain strangers ; for thereby some have entertained Angels 
ima wares. Respectfully yours, 

''Samuel W. Whelpley." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 299 

A short passage from a letter of condolence, adressed to Mrs. 
Payson by a friend in Connecticut, will probably express the 
common sentiment of many thousands, who have listened to 
him whether for a few moments only or for hours : — 

" I remember with most deep and interesting impression, my 
last interview with your beloved and ever- to-be-lamented hus- 
band. It was during a delightful ride of five or six miles, on 
the borders of Farmington river. Never had I heard such dis- 
course from the lips of man — never had such interview with a 
mortal. Even then ho seemed like a pure spirit from anotlier 
world. Such words of wisdom ! and such heavenly affections ! 
I cannot efface the impression from my mind.'^ 

The compiler has taken much pains to procure from compan- 
ions of his journeys some of the striking observations, which 
were drawn from him by the natural scenery that he witnessed, 
by the various characters with whom he met, and the circum- 
stances in which, at different times, he found himself. But his 
attempts, even with those from whom he had the greatest rea- 
son to expect full and satisfactory replies, have been utterly 
fruitless. The general impression produced by his pccasional 
conversation, has been very strong and deep, and the effect 
powerful and abiding ; but not one has ventured to report par- 
ticulars. The words, and of course, the precise sentiments, 
with numerous circumstances which rendered them peculiarly 
seasonable, 'Mike apples of gold in pictures of silver," are lost 
beyond recovery, while their effect remains. The impulse 
which he gave to other minds still keeps them in action, and is 
still transmitted from mind to mind, while it is impossible for 
them to tell how this impulse was first imparted. The pleas- 
ure and the benefit remain, though the exciting cause has disap- 
peared. So absorbed have persons been with the effect, as to 
lose all distinct recollection of the means employed in producing 
it. This corresponds with the writer's experience. At the first 
visit which he ever received from Dr. Payson, some allusion 
was made to the opinion which prevails among Christians in 
common life, that ministers are in a situation peculiarly favor- 
able to religious enjoyment, because their profession leads them 
to be incessantly conversant with divine truth. " This," said 



300 MEMOIR OF 

Mr. Payson, " is just as if a hungry man, on entering the kitch- 
en of a large victualing-house, and inhaling the savory odor of 
the various dishes of rich food, hot from the fire and the oven, 
with which the busy laborers were loading the tables, should 
exclaim — 'What a blessed time these cooks have !' " During 
the interview he uttered enough to make a valuable pamphlet ; 
and yet this one comparison is all that can be related with even 
tolerable justice to him. 

He had repeated applications from the directors of the princi- 
pal charitable societies of the country to take journeys and 
collect funds for their respective operations. Of the first of 
these applications he says — " I dislike begging, and therefore 
thought I must go ; but the hopes of a revival pulled me back.'* 
He, however, soon after, "made a beginning by visiting a few 
towns, the result of which did not encourage him to proceed. 
He Avas brought into circumstances which rendered it necessary 
to preach ten times in eight days ;" which added to the fatigue 
of riding a great distance, proved too much for his strength, and 
compelled him to relinquish the undertaking. 

In the early part of 1819, he made a tour, confined chiefly to 
Essex county, Mass., in behalf of the American Education So- 
ciety.* His success in collecting money, though as great, prob- 
ably, as his employers had any reason to anticipate, did not 
equal his own wishes. It was no slight trial, " after preaching 
till he was half dead, to find only a few dollars contributed, and 
then be obliged to retire, and lie awake, brooding over his ill 

* A little manuscript volume has fallen into my hands, in which one of Mr. 
Payson's hearers entered his texts from time to time, together with some of 
the leading topics of his discourses. A short extract will show the apposite- 
ness of his subjects to the circumstances of himself and his congregation, 
and enable the reader to imagine the additional force and impressiveness 
which his instructions hence derived: — 

'^ Jan. 24, 1819. In the afternoon, Mr. Payson, preparatory' to leaving to-wii 
on a mission to the counties of Essex and Middlesex, in the service of the 
American Education Society, preached from these words: — 

' Now I beseecli you, brethren, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for 
the love of the Spirit, that ye strive together with me in your prayers to God 
for nje, that I may be delivered from them that do not believe in Judea ; and 
that my service which I have for Jerusalem, may be accepted of the saints* 
that I may come to you with joy by the will of God, ar.d may with you )>o 
refreshed.' "—Rom. xv. 30—32. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 301 

success half the night." His actual receipts, however, consti- 
tuted but a small part of the advantage which the society real- 
ized as the consequence of his excursion. By such an advocate, 
its objects and its claims were favorably made known to the 
community ; auxiliary societies were formed, and promises ob- 
tained from individuals of large donations. The amount of 
good which he accomplished on this journey cannot be estimat- 
ed by dollars and cents. To obtain money, was with him, now 
and at all times, a very subordinate object. It was his great 
desire to exert an influence favorable to the spiritual welfare of 
ministers and churches whom he visited. " I labored as direct- 
ly as I dared, to persuade all the ministers where I went to ex- 
pect a revival, and talked to them in my way about Christ." 
His unusual manner of conversing attracted attention, and 
opened to his brethren new ways of awakening interest in the 
subject of Christ and his salvation. His prayers produced the 
same impression which they always had on strangers. An 
aged minister noticed the same quality in his prayers, as did 
the lay visitor at the Springs. He remarked, after hearing them, 
that prayer might be made as instructive as preaching; and 
wrote to a son in the ministry, to have Mr. Payson preach for 
him, by all means, and especially to pray. 

Mr. Payson' s excursions, from time to time, for the benefit of 
his health, were the means of making him personally known in 
several of our southern cities, as well as in New England and 
New York, and consequently, of extending that pious influ- 
ence which he ever exerted to the farthest boundaries of our 
land. 

There is nothing more true, in theory, than that a minister is 
the common property of the church at large, rather than of any 
particular division of the church, and that she has a right to his 
services in that place, which will afford the widest scope for tho 
effectual and useful employment of his peculiar talents and 
qualifications. But various causes render the principle, one 
of most difficult application. Some unhappy consequences, 
perhaps, never fail to follow the transfer of a minister from one 
church to another ; and no slight probability of increased use- 
fulness can justify such removal. In order that such a change 
may bring any gain to the church general, a minister must do 
much more good in his new situation, than he did in that which 



302 MEMOIR OF 

ho left ; for it will require much to balance the certain evils, in- 
separable from his removal. When a pastor is established in 
the affections and confidence of his flock, and is laboring with 
more than ordinary zeal and success, any interference from 
abroad must be regarded as a hazardous experiment. There 
may be much of selfishness in the refusal of a people to give 
up their minister ; but certainly not more than there is in those 
who wish to obtain his services at their expense, and by whose 
solicitations their feelings are put to the trial. Else, why does 
the choice of rich churches never fall upon any but ministers 
of established popularity, or distinguished for their success ; 
while many others, equal, perhaps superior, in moral and intel- 
lectual worth, are placed over churches by whom their merits 
are not appreciated, and who only need a change of situation 
to take a rank among the most useful of Christ's ministers'? 
The '' call " of a church to the pastor of a sister church may be 
the call of God ; and it may be the result of caprice, of parti- 
ality, of pride, or other selfish passions. Those calls are most 
entitled to consideration, which these feelings have the least 
concern in producing. The guardians of our public seminaries 
may be supposed, from their situation, to have no private feel- 
ings or partialities to gratify by their appointments. In ordin- 
ary cases, they can have little inducement to act for any other 
than the general good ; and that will be a dark day for our 
land, when these institutions, the nurseries of learning and re- 
ligion, whence her future pillars are to be obtained, shall be 
denied their claim to the most valuable men whom the church 
can furnish. 

Much disquiet is often produced in a parish by the reported 
intentions and informal proposals of a society abroad, to " get 
away their minister," even when this imprudent agitation of 
the subject does not issue in a formal invitation. The second 
church in Portland had much experience of this species of trial. 
When Park street Church, in Boston, was left vacant by the 
removal of Dr. Griffin, Mr. Payson's charge had unpleasant 
apprehensions of losing their beloved pastor. It is in allusion 
to this time that he says in a letter — " We have been kept in a 
fever here, all this winter, by perpetual alarms from Boston. 
Because I do not refuse before I am asked, and exclaim loudly 
against going, some of my people suspect I wish to go I 



EDWARD PAYSON. 303 

wish ' Boston folks ' would be content with being ' full of no- 
tions ' themselves, and not fill other people's heads with them." 
It must greatly endear his memory to his surviving flock, to 
learn from another letter what were his secret feelings in rela- 
tion to this matter: — "My people — I never knew before how 
much they loved me. I am amazed to see what an interest God 
has given me in the affections of his people, and even of sin- 
ners. It would seem like tearing off limbs to leave them. In- 
deed, I see not how it is possible, humanly speaking, to get 
away from them. I have not yet been put to the trial. No ap- 
plication has yet been made from B., though much has been 
said about it. It is very doubtful whether any will be made, 
I feel very easy about it myself, but the church are in great trib- 
ulation. Ever since it was first talked of, I have taken special 
care to avoid every thing which might tend, either directly or 
indirectly, to bring it about. If it comes, it shall be none of my 
seeking." 

Several years after this, he did, with the full consent of his 
people, take up a temporary residence in Boston, and, during 
the few weeks which he spent there, preached to crowded as- 
semblies, and not without apparent effect. Though the work 
which his friends there laid out for him was too much for his 
strength, he was wearied with solicitations and entreaties to 
visit and preach in the neighboring towns; so anxious were 
those who had once heard him, to secure for their friends and 
neighbors a participation in the same privilege ; and so confident 
were their hopes that he would be the instrument of awakening 
a general concern for the soul, wherever he should address to 
men the message with which he was entrusted. 

In 1825, at the organization of the new church in Hanovef 
street, he was invited to take the pastoral charge of it. He 
referred the call to his own church, who decided, unanimously, 
that he ought not to accept it — a decision to which he cheer- 
fully acceded. 

In January 1826, he received a unanimous call from the 
church in Cedar-street, New York, to become their pastor. This 
call he promptly, fully, and unequivocally declined. The mo- 
tives by which he was actuated, may be seen from a letter to 
his mother, written a few days afterwards. All classes gave 
him full credit for disinterestedness in his conduct on this occa- 
sion. 



304 MEMOIR OF 

''Portland, Jan. 25, 1826. 
" My dear mother: — Before you receive this, you will, prob- 
ably have heard that I have returned a negative answer to the 
invitation from the Cedar-street church. After refusing to ac- 
cept the call from Boston, I could not do otherwise. If I had 
gone to either place, I must have gone to Boston ; for I think 
the prospect of usefulness there is greater, all things considered 
than at New York. Besides, I would never consent to become 
the pastor of any church, whose members had not heard me 
preach, and become personally acquainted with me. I have 
not the least doubt, that, had I complied with the Cedar-street 
invitation, the first emotions of the church and society, on hearing 
me, would have been those of bitter disappointment and regret. 
It is true that a removal to New York, were I fit for the place, 
would, on many accounts, have been very gratifying. I felt no 
small inclination to go. I should like exceedingly to be near 
you and my other relations. I should also hke a milder climate 
than this, and I have little doubt that it would be beneficial to 
my health. But a removal would be death to my reputation in 
this part of the country ; I mean my Christian reputation ; and, 
what is far worse, it would bring great reproach upon religion. 
At present, my worst enemies, and the worst enemies of religion, 
seem disposed to allow that I am sincere, upright, and uninflu- 
enced by those motives which govern worldly-minded men. 
But had I gone to Boston, and, much more, should I now go to 
New York, they would at once triumphantly exclaim, 'Ah J 
they are all alike; all governed by worldly motives; they preach 
against the love of money, and the love of applause, but they 
will gratify either of those passions, when a fair opportunity 
offers.' Now, I had much rather die, than give them an occa- 
sion thus to speak reproachfully. It would be overthrowing all 
which I have been laboring to build up. Indeed, I can see no 
reason why God should suffer these repeated invitations to be 
sent to me, unless it be to give me an opportunity to show the 
world that all ministers are not actuated by mercenary or ambi- 
tious views. I have already some reason to believe, that my 
refusal to accept the two calls has done more to convince the 
enemies of religion, that there is a reality in it, than a thousand 
sermons would have done. However this may be, I have done 
what I thought to be duty. If I ever felt desirous to know 



EDWARD PAYS ON. 305 

the will of God, and willing to obey it, it has been in referenoe 
to these two cases. Could I have had reason to believe, that it 
was his will, I would very gladly have gone either to Boston or 
to New York. But, at present, I believe that it was his will 
that I should remain where I am. Not that I am of any use 
here; but though I can do no good, I would if possible, avoid 
doing harm." 

But little more than a month elapsed before the invitation of 
the Cedar-street church was repeated. Some changes in his 
circumstances led him to deliberate, for a time, whether this 
second invitation might not be the call of Providence. He con- 
sidered the obstacles, which had opposed his removal, as di- 
minished. The church in Hanover street — supposing that he 
might possibly be deterred from complying with this invitation, 
by the fact that he had so recently declined a call from them — 
passed a resolve, with a vicAV to remove any difficulties which 
that circumstance might have thrown in his way, and wrote a 
letter, urging him to act just as he should if he had never re- 
ceived an invitation from them. This amounted very nearly to 
the expression of an opinion, that it was his duty to go. He 
was evidently much perplexed. On the one hand, he feared 
•' doing wrong, and offending God, by running before he was 
sent." On the other hand, the circumstances attendmg his 
reception of the call, " induced him to believe that it might, 
possibly, be the call of God ; and he could not again decline it, 
imtil he had taken time for prayer and deliberation." " I have 
ample reaason," he writes to the commissioners who tendered 
the invitation, " to believe that God placed me in my present 
situation ; and I must, therefore, be convinced that he calls me 
away, before I can consent to leave it. That he does call me 
away, I am not yet convinced ; though I admit it to be possible." 

After having been long agitated by the perplexing question, 
it was, at length, referred to a council, mutually chosen by him- 
self and his church. To the council it proved almost as tedious 
and trying as it had to him. They were reluctant to decide 
against his removal, thinking it possible, that a change of cli- 
mate and situation, together with the diminished necessity of 
study, might recruit the wasted energies of his body, and pro- 
long, for the benefit of the church, his most valuable and useful 

VOL. I. 39 



306 MEMOIR OF 

life. On the other hand, they found difficulties in the way of 
recommending his removal, which they were not able to sur» 
mount, the principal of which was his want of a full and de- 
cided conviction of personal duty in the case. They could, 
therefore, only advise, that, if such should be his conviction, 
and he should make it known to his church, they would consent 
to part with him. 

To this state his mind had nearly approached, when its pro- 
gress towards conviction was arrested and its purpose changed 
by increased illness. Symptoms of pulmonary affection, added 
to his other maladies, excited apprehensions that his labors on 
earth were nearly terminated — apprehensions which, alas ! 
proved to be but too well founded. In May following, by the 
advice of friends and physicians, he tried very thoroughly the 
experiment of riding on horseback, by making a journey through 
the interior of Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and 
Connecticut, to New York city, and thence to the Springs, 
where his mind was disturbed by a third application to take the 
charge of the Cedar-street church, accompanied with most 
pressing letters and messages from clergymen and others. 
Though this was declined without much hesitation, yet in the 
excitable state of his nerves, and his universal weakness of 
body, it was injurious to his welfare, and, combined with other 
causes, prevented his deriving any benefit from his journey and 
an absence of two months. 

" The peculiar trials of mind," writes the Rev. Mr. Whelpley, 
with whom he took lodgings, — "The peculiar trials of mind 
he had passed through, in consequence of the invitations he 
received to New York and Boston, well nigh broke him down, 
as he expressed it, and greatly aggravated his complaints and 
sufferings ; and he had hoped to experience no more trouble 
from this quarter. But no sooner was it known in New York, 
that he was at the Springs, than fresh overtures were sent to 
him. ' 1 wonder,' said he, • that this people will thus pursue a 
dying man. I cannot help them or myself I have no doubt, 
from various expressions of his, that the great efforts made to 
effect his translation to a new field of labor, proved too much 
for his weak frame, and hastened his dissolution." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 307 

The language ascribed to Mr. Pay son, in the preceding extract, 
is descriptive of his own weakness, and expresses his settled 
conviction of the desperate condition of his health, and not any 
intended censure of the people who were so perseveringly solic- 
itous to secure his services. He could fully appreciate their 
motives. But they knew not how delicate and susceptible were 
his feelings; nor did they know how nearly exhausted in him, 
were the springs of life. Doubtless their wishes had so far 
affected their judgment, as to create the confident expectation, 
that a removal to a new field of action would be the means of 
restoring and establishing his health. But it was already gone 
past recovery. 

That he was held in as high estimation by the great and good, 
as by Christians in the ordinary walks of life, is obvious from 
the fact, that he was, in 1821, requested by persons having some 
control in the appointment, to say whether he would accept a 
professorship in the Theological Seminary at Andover, if elected 
to the office. But he refused "at once, and positively, on the 
score of not possessing the requisite qualifications. Had I been 
suitably qualified, I am not certain that I should not have 
thought it my duty to go." 



CHAPTER XVII. 



Letters to persons in various circumstances and states of mind. 



Though Mr. Payson was eminently felicitous in adapting his 
public discourses to the wants and characters of a promiscuous 
assembly, he was, if possible, still more so, in suiting his coun- 
sels, instructions, and appeals, to the cases of individuals. Bui 
these dictates of his sanctified understanding and ardently 
affectionate heart, are mostly lost ; and their place can be sup- 
plied only by a selection from his letters, written to persons vari- 
ously situated and affected, — which, though both interesting 
and instructive, are far inferior in imagery, appositeness, and 
effect, to his viva voce instructions. 

To his mother under affliction of spirit : 

*' My dearest mother : — Never did I more ardently wish to 
impart consolation, and never did I feel so utterly powerless to 
do it. You say yourself, that neither reason nor religion can 
restrain your tormenting imagination. What encouragement, 
then, have I to attempt to conifort you under the evils it occa- 
sions 7 I wish I could communicate to you the feelings which 
have rendered me happy for some weeks past. 1 will mention 
the texts which occasioned them ; texts on which I have preach- 
ed lately. Perhaps the great Comforter may apply them to you. 
If so, you will little need any consolation which I can give. 
The first is Isaiah xxvi. 20. The time of our continuance on 
earth is but a moment ; nay, it is but a little moment. Sup- 
pose, then, the worst. Suppose all the evils which imagination 
can paint, should come upon you. They will endure only for 
a little moment ; and, while this little moment is passing away, 



MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 309 

yon may run and hide in the chambers of protection, which 
God has provided for his people, till the mansions preparing for 
them above are ready for their reception. O, then, my dear 
mother, glory in these afflictions, which endure but for a mo- 
ment. O, how near, how very near, is eternity. It is even at 
the door. 

" New-year's Sabbath, I preached on this text, ' As the Lord 
liveth, there is but a step between me and death.' One infer- 
ence was, there is but a step between Christians and heaven. 
So it has seemed to me almost ever since. Another text, which 
I have preached on lately, and which has been much blessed to 
me, is Rev. xxi. 23 ' And the city has no need of the sun,' 
&€. O, how unutterably glorious did heaven appear ! It is 
glory ; it is a weight of glory ; an exceeding weight of glory ; 
a far more exceeding weight of glory; a far more exceed- 
ing and eternal weight of glory. O, how shall we bear 
such a v/eight of glory as this ! How shall we wait with 
patience till we arrive at it ! O, it seems too much ; too 
boundless, too overwhelming to think of. Come afflictions ; 
come troubles ; come trials, temptations, distresses of every kind 
and degree ; make our path through life as painful, as wearisome 
as you can ; still, if heaven is at the end of it, we will smile at 
all you can do. My dear mother, break away ; O that God 
would enable you to break away from all your cares and sor- 
rows, and fly, rise, soar up to the New Jerusalem. See its 
diamond walls, its golden streets, its pearly gates, its shining 
inhabitants, all in a blaze with reflected light and glory, the 
light of God, the glory of the Lamb ! Say with David, To- 
ward this city I will go in the strength of the Lord God ; I will 
make mention of thy righteousness, even of thine only. My 
mother, what a righteousness is this ? The righteousness of 
God ! A righteousness as much better than that of Adam, nay, 
than that of angels, as God is better than his creatures. Since, 
then, my dear mother, you have such a heaven before you ; 
such a righteousness to entitle you to heaven ; and such blessed 
chambers to hide in, during the little moment which separates 
you from heaven, — dry up your tears, banish your anxieties, 
leave sorrow and sighing to those who have no such blessings 
in store or reversion, and sing, sing, as Noah sat secure in the 
ark, and sang 'the grace that steered him through.' 



310 MEMOIR OF 

******* 

* I would urge father to be more careful of himself, if I thought 
it would do any good ; but it will not. The nearer he gets to 
his sun, his centre, the end of his course, the faster he will fly, 
and you cannot stop him. Catch hold of him, and fly with 
him, and I will come panting after as fast as I can." 

To a kinsman, in an important crisis of his religious experi- 
ence : — 

*^ In your present situation, and for some time to come, 



your greatest difliculty will be, to maintain the daily perform.- 
ance of closet duties. On your maintaining that part, the fate 
of the whole battle will turn. This your great adversary well 
knows. He knows, that if he can beat you out of the closet, 
he shall have you in his own power. You will be in the situa- 
tion of an army cut off' from supplies and re-inforcements, and 
will be obliged either to capitulate, or to surrender at discretion. 
He will, therefore, leave no means untried to drive or draw you 
from the closet. And it will be hard work to maintain that post 
against him and your own heart. Sometimes he will probably 
assail you with more violence, when you attempt to read or 
pray than at any other time ; and thus try to persuade you that 
prayer is rather injurious than beneficial. At other times, he 
will withdraw, and be quiet, lest, if he should distress you with 
his temptation, you might be driven to the throne of grace for 
help. If he can prevail upon us to be careless and stupid, he 
will rarely distress us. He will not disturb a false peace, 
because it is a peace of which he is the author. But if he can- 
not succeed in lulling us asleep, he will do all in his power to 
distress us. And when he is permitted to do this, and the Holy 
Spirit withdraws his sensible aid and consolations ; when, 
though we cry and shout, God seems to shut out our prayers,-- 
it is by no means easy to be constant in secret duties. Indeed, 
it is always most difficult to attend to them when they are most 
necessary. But never mind. Your Lord and Master is looking 
on. He notices, he accepts, and he will reward every struggle. 
Besides, in the Christian warfare, to maintain the conflict, is to 
gain the victory. The promise is made to him that endures to 
the end. The object of our spiritual adversaries, then, is to 



EDWARD PAYSON. 311 

prevent us from enduring to the end- If they fail of effecting 
this object, they are defeated. Every day in which you are 
preserved from going back, they sustain a defeat. And if, by 
praying yesterday, you gained strength enough to pray to-day; 
and if, by praying to-day, you gain strength enough to pray 
again to-morrow, you have cause for thankfulness. If the food 
which you take every day nourishes you for one day you are 
satisfied. You do not expect that the food you ate yesterday 
will nourish you to-day. Do not complain, then, if you find it 
necessary to ask every day for fresh supplies of spiritual nour- 
ishment ; and do not think your prayers, are unanswered, so 
long as you are enabled to struggle on, even though it should be 
with pain and difficulty. Every day I see more clearly how 
great a mercy it is to be kept from open sin and from complete 
apostacy. If you are thus kept, be thankful for it." 

To a gentleman in a neighboring state, whose hospitality he 
had enjoyed while on a journey for his health, and who has 
since yielded to the expostulations of his reverend friend, and is 
now numbered with the people of God : — 

" The lui varying kindness and hospitality with which I was 
treated while at your house, has left an impression upon my 
mind, and laid me under obligations, which, I trust, will never 
be forgotten. In addition to this, the apparent interest with 
which you listened to remarks on religious subjects, and your 
request that I would write to you and pray for you, have led 
me to feel a more than ordinary concern for your future welfare. 
It is this which induces me to write — yet I must confess that I 
write with trembling. The numerous instances in Avhich I 
have seen religious impressions fade away, lead me to fear that, 
ere this, the subject may have ceased to appear interesting to 
you, and that you will not thank me for troubling you with this 
letter. But I will, for the present, hope better things, and, under 
the influence of such a hope, will venture to write. Yet what 
shall I say, ignorant as I am of the present state of your mind, 
and, of course, equally ignorant of what it requires? I have 
been imploring that omnipresent Being, who is perfectly ac- 
quahited Avith it. to guide my pen, and lead me to write some- 
thing which may prove ' a word in season.' Should he grant 
me this, it would be a favor indeed. 



312 MEMOIR OF 

*' Perhaps I ought to address you as a Christian. Perhaps 
you have, ere this, become a cordial, decided disciple of Christ. 
I am not entirely without hope that this is the case. Few 
things could give me more pleasure than to be assured that it is 
no. If it is, you will need no exhortations from me to pursue a 
course which you have already found to be ' ways of pleasant- 
ness and paths of peace.' If it is, you have already ' tasted 
and seen that the Lord is good ;' you know his goodness, not 
speculatively, or by report merely, but experimentally ; and you 
can address the Saviour in the language of Peter — 'I believe 
and am sure that thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.' 
But, if this is not the case, if your mind remains in the same 
state in which I left it, the following hints may possibly prove 
serviceable : — 

'' God, as a wise Being, employs means and instruments 
suited to 'the work which he designs to perform. He never 
employs powerful means, or dignified agents, to effect a work 
which might as well be effected by weak means and feeble 
agents. He would not employ an angel to do the work of a 
man ; he would not send his only Son to perform works which 
did not transcend the powers of an angel. Hence we may in- 
fer, that, if men or angels could have effected the work of man's 
redemption, God would not have employed his own Son to 
effect it ; and, if that Son could have effected it in any easier 
way than by dying on the cross, he would never have consent- 
ed to die in that manner. Consider, then, my dear sir, how 
great a work this must have been. To create the world cost 
Jesus Christ but six days ; but to redeem the world cost him 
thirty-three years, spent in poverty and labor, and the shedding 
of his own blood. How great, then, must have been the evils 
from which he did all this to redeem us ! How terrible must 
be the situation of sinners, since he suffered so much to rescue 
them from it ! From the dignity of the Physician, aiid th«:^ 
costliness of the remedy, we may learn how dangerous, how 
desperate, was the disease. Only let a man say, with firm con- 
viction.^ — ' My situation was so dangerous, so hopeless, thai 
nothing less than the incarnation and death of God's eternal 
Son could save me from it,' and he will scarcely remain at rest 
until he has secured salvation. He will not, cannot rest in a 
situation so dangerous. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 313 

^* But these facts and inferences, obvious as they are, we are 
prone to overlook. There is a species of religion which appears 
to us much more rational and agreeable than the doctrines of 
the cross. It is, indeed, little better than deism ; for Christ has 
almost no place in it. It may, therefore, be useful to attend to 
such passages as these : — ' All men shall honor the Son, even as 
they honor the Father :' — ' He that honoreth not the Son, hon- 
oreth not the Father :' — ' He that denieth the Son hath not the 
Father.' Christ says — 'No man cometh to the Father but by 
me :' — ' In him dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily.' 
Now, if all the fulness of the Godhead dwells in Christ, no man 
can obtain any portion of that fulness without applying to 
Christ. In a word, Christ's language is — - Without me ye can 
do nothing.' Never, then, shall we do any thing successfully 
in religion, unless we apply for and obtain assistance. We 
must begin with Christ. He is the Author and Finisher of our 
Faith. 

"I have written at random, and in the dark respecting your 
present feelings. I can scarcely hope that these broken hints 
will be of any service. But they will, at least, serve as a proof 
that I have not forgotten your kindness, and that I feel an in- 
terest in your welfare. This interest is deeper than you are, 
perhaps, aware. It would gratify me much to hear from you, 
and still more to hear that you are rejoicing in the truth. Be 
pleased to remember me respectfully and affectionately to Mrs. 

. I have not forgotten her kindness. Our journey, after 

we left you, was tolerably pleasant, but of little service to my 
health. ***** May we all meet in heaven, is the 
frequent prayer of Yours sincerely." 

To a distant lady, in whose piety he had full confidence^ but 
who was much discouraged respecting herself: — 

" My dear MRS. : — W^hat a task you have imposed on 

me ! You require me to write you a letter which shall make 
you feel, and yet you tell me that the Bible, the letter which 
God himself has sent to you from heaven, does not make you 
feel. If I believed this to be the case, could I write with any 
hope of success ? Could I hope to affect a heart which a mes- 
sage from heaven does not affect ? But I do not, cannot believe 

VOL. I. 40 



314 MEMOIR OF 

that this message has failed to affect you. Your letter to Mrs. 
P. contains proof that it has not. In that letter you say — ' I 
hate myself Avhile I write.' But hatred of one's self, or ielf-ab- 
horrence, is one of the constituent parts of true repentaiice. No 
one but the real penitent, no one Avho is not a Christian, hates 
himself He who abhors himself sees and feels it to be right 
that God should abhor him. He can, accordingly, take part 
with God against himself — justify God while he reproaches 
and condemns himself And he who can do this is prepared to 
embrace the gospel, to receive it as glad tidings of great joy. 
Are you not then, my dear madam, proved to be a Christian out 
of your own mouth ? If you do not choose to yield to proof 
from that source, let me request you to come with me to the 
mount of transfiguration. We may, like the disciples, feel 
emotions of fear as we enter the bright cloud which overshad- 
ows it, but we have no reason to entertain such emotions. Now 
contemplate him who stood on the summit, in the midst of this 
bright cloud. See his countenance shining like the sun, and his 
raiment white as the light. See all the fulness of the Godhead 
dwelling in him, diffusing itself around. Hear the awful voice 
of the eternal Father, proclaiming — 'This is my beloved Son, 
in v/hom I am well pleased ; hear ye him.' Recollect all thai 
you have heard and read of the Being before you. Think of 
his power to save, of his willingness to save, of his delight in 
saving sinners. And now, what does your heart say to all this? 
What reply does it make when the Saviour, turning upon you 
a look full of invitation, benevolence, and compassion, says to 
you — Fear not, Mary, to approach me ; I am come to seek and 
to save that which was lost ; shall I save thee ? Wilt thou con- 
sent to have me for thy Saviour upon my own terms ? Wilt 
thou believe that I am disposed to look with an eye of pity on 
thy struggles against sin, and to assist thee in overcoming iti 
Wilt thou believe that I can bear with thee, forgive thee, have 
patience with thee, and never be weary of instructing thee, re- 
claiming thee, and leading thee forward in the way to heaven ? 
And now, my dear madam, let me ask, once more, What reply 
does your heart make to this language 1 Does it not say with 
Peter. — ' Lord, it is good to be here ' — it is good to sit at thy 
feet, and hear thy word ; I believe, I am sure, that thou art the 
Christ, the Son of the living God 1 If this is the language of 



EDWARD PAYSON. 315 

your heart, he doe's, in effect, say to you — * Blessed art thou, 
Mary Ann ; for flesh and blood have not revealed this unto 
thee, bat my Father, who is in heaven.' Blessed art thou, for 
thou hast chosen the good part, and it shall never be taken 
from thee. But perhaps you will say — for you have to dispute 
against yourself — * I believe nothing, feel nothing, of all this.' 
Let me, then, make another trial. St. Paul, speaking of ancient 
believers, says — 'If they had been mindful of the country 
whence they came out, they might have had opportunity to re- 
turn thither ; but they desired another country, even a heaven- 
ly ; wherefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God.' 
Now permit me to apply this passage to your case. If you are 
mindful of the Avorld, if you wish to return to that careless, sin- 
ful state of conformity to it, from which you are professedly 
come out, you have opportunity to return to it ; there is nothing 
to prevent you. But can you say that you wish to return ? 
Can you deny that you desire a better country, even a heavenly? 
If you do desire it, if you have no wish to return to the service 
of sin, then God is not ashamed to be called your God ; and if 
he is not ashamed to be called your God, then you ought not to 
be afraid to call him so ; but ought to approach him with confi- 
dence, crying, ' my Father ! my God !' " 

To a young female member of his church, obviating an erro- 
neous inference from her want of sensible enjoyment in Chris- 
tian ordinances. 

" You appear to speak in several places, as if you imagined 
that the loss of sensible comfort is a proof that God is displeas- 
ed, and that it is intended as a punishment of our neglect. This 
is the only idea in your manuscript which I do not consider as 
perfectly correct. I believe that persons may sometimes enjoy 
the light of God's countenance, when he is far from being pleas- 
ed with them ; and on the contrary, that they may long walk 
in darkness when their conduct is well pleasing in his sight. 
But this is too copious a subject to be discussed in a letter. We 
will talk of it hereafter. 

Nothing appears to perplex you more than the little comfort 
or advantage, which you derive from the Lord's Supper. In 
this respect however, your case is less singular than you may 



diO MEMOIR OF 

suppose. A few days since I was conversing with a professor 
of six or seven years' standing, whom I have every reason to 
look upon as a Christian, who never enjoyed a single commu- 
nion until within two months past. I have met with other similar 
instances. 

" If I may judge from a view of the state of your mind as 
here described, I should say that your difficulties principally 
arise from strong temptations addressed to your conscience ; 
temptations which lead you continually to contemplate your 
own sinfulness, guilt and wretchedness, and to doubt your right 
to take hold on the promises of the gospel. You recollect tho 
woman whom Satan had bound for eighteen years, in such a 
manner that she could not lift herself up. In the same manner 
he often binds Christians, by temptations addressed to the con- 
science, so that they can only look down into themselves, and 
cannot lift themselves up to contemplate Christ. But this por- 
ing upon our own wretchedness will never afford us relief, any 
more than the Israelites could derive relief, when bitten by the 
fiery serpents, from poring upon the number and depth of their 
wounds." 

The following letter of condolence to his bereaved parents 
contains some reminiscences of a most valuable* woman, which 
ought to be preserved, and which will be gladly recognised by 
great numbers, to whom she was endeared by " the good works 
and alms-deeds which she did:" — 

"May 4, 1818. 
" My DEAR AFFLICTED PARENTS *. — You will probably hear from 
poor brother Rand, before you receive this letter, that you have 
one child less on earth, to comfort you in the decline of life ; 
that dear, dear Grata has gone before you to heaven. I cannot 
hope to console you ; but I do hope that your surviving children 
will feel bound to do every thing in their power to make up 
your loss, by increased filial affection, and concern for your 
happiness. I cannot mourn for Grata. How much suffering 
of body and mind has she escaped by her early departure ! But 
I mourn for poor brother Rand, for his motherless children, and 
for you. It would be some consolation to you, could you know 
how much she was beloved, how greatly her loss is lamented. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 317 

how much good she did, and how loudly she is praised by all 
who knew her. I doubt not that hundreds mourn for her, and 
feel her loss almost or quite as much as do her relatives. Mr. 
H., who preached her funeral sermon, gave her a most exalted 
character ; and a young lady, who resided a few weeks in Mr. 
Rand's family, speaks of her, every where, as the most faultless 
person with whom she was ever acquainted. 

" Many, many prayers have been offered up, both here and 
at Gorham, that you may be supported and comforted, when 
the tidings reach you ; and I hope and trust they will be an- 
swered. Thanks be to God, that you are loved and blessed by 
many who never saw you, on account of your children. Mr. 
Rand feels great hopes that her loss will be blessed to his church 
and people ; and that she will do more good in her death, than 
she has done in her life; and from what I saw at the funeral, I 
cannot but indulge similar hopes. You will wish to know how 
he bears the loss ; but I can hardly tell. When I saw him, he 
had been in a state of confusion, and surrounded by his mourn- 
ing people, from the moment of her death ; so that, as he more 
than once observed, he could scarcely realize that she was dead, 
or tell how he felt. The worst is yet to come ; but I doubt not 
he will be supported. I hope, too, that her loss will do me some 
good. The suddenness of her departure makes the other world 
appear very near ; and she seems as much, and even more alive, 
than she did before. I preached with reference to the sub- 
ject yesterday ; and could not but hope that her death might 
be blessed to some of my people, or, at least, to some of the 
church." 

To two of his flock, who, in their absence from home, were 
to receive, with this letter, the afllicting intelligence of the death 
of their only child : — * 

" My dear brother and sister in Christ, and now brother and 
sister in affliction, the letters which accompany this will inform 
you why I write. I see and share in the poignant grief which 
those letters occasion ; nor would I rudely interrupt it. I will 
sit down and weep with you in silence for a while ; and when 
the first gush of wounded affection is past ; when the tribute 

• Christian Spectator for March, 1830. 



318 MEMOIR OF 

which nature demands, and which rehgion does not forbid, has 
been paid to the memory of your dear departed babe, I will at- 
tempt to whisper a word of consolation. May the ' God of all 
consolation ' make it such. Were I writing to parents who 
know nothing of religion, I should indeed despair of affording 
you any consolation. My task would be difficult indeed, nor 
should I know what to say. I could only tell them of a God 
whom they had never known, of a Saviour with whom they 
had formed no acquaintance, of a Comforter whose consoling 
power they had never experienced, of a Bible from whose rich 
treasures they had never been taught to derive support. But 
in writing to you, my only difficulty is of a very different kind. 
It consists in selecting from the innumerable topics of consola- 
tion contained in the Scriptures, those which are best adapted 
to your peculiar situation. So numerous are they, that I know 
not which to mention or which to omit. May God guide my 
choice and direct my pen. It is needless, in writing to Chris- 
tian parents, to you, to enlarge on the common topics of conso- 
lation. I need not tell you who has done this, — who it is that 
gives and takes away. I need not tell you, that ' whom the 
Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he re- 
ceiveth.' I need not tell you of the great duties of resignation 
and submission, for you have long been learning them in a 
painful but salutary school. And need I tell you that he who 
inflicts your sufferings, knows their number and weight, knows 
all the pain you feel, and sympathizes with you even as you 
once sympathized with your dear babe ; for as a father pitieth 
his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. O think 
of this ; the pity, the parental pity, of a God. Who would not 
willingly be afflicted to be thus pitied ! Go then, my dear 
brother and sister, and lean with sweet confiding love upon the 
bosom of this pitying, sympathizing Friend ; there deposit all 
your sorrows, and hear him saying. The cup which I give you, 
my children, will you not drink it 7 Remember he knows all 
its bitterness. He himself mentions the grief of parents mourn- 
ing for a first born and only child as exceedingly great. Re- 
member too, that taking this bitter cup with cheerfulness from 
your Father's hand, will be considered by him as an unequivo- 
cal token of your filial affection. * Now I know that thou 
lovest me,' said he to Abraham, * seeing thou hast not withheld 



EDWARD PAYSON. 319 

thy son, thine only son from me.' It requires the same kind of 
grace, if not the same degree of grace, to resign a child willing- 
ly to God, as to sacrifice it on the altar ; and if you are enabled 
thus to resign your babe, God Avill say to you. Now I know that 
ye love me, seeing ye withheld not your child, your only child, 
from me. If at times, when ' all the parent rises in your 
bosoms,' these consolations should prove insufficient to quiet 
your sorrows, think on what is the situation and employment 
of your dear departed child. She is doubtless praising God ; 
and, next to the gift of Christ, she probably praises him for giv- 
ing her parents who prayed for her and dedicated her to God. 
She now knows all that you did for her, and loves and thanks 
you for it, and will love and thank you forever ; for though nat- 
ural ties are dissolved by death, yet those spiritual ties which 
unite you and your child, will last long as eternity. She has 
performed all the work, and done all the good, for which she 
was sent to us, and thus fulfilled the end of her earthly exist- 
once ; and if you have been the means of bringing into being a 
little immortal, who had just lighted on these shores, and then 
took her flight to heaven, you have reason to be thankful ; for 
it is an honor and a favor. Neither your existence nor your 
union have been in vain, since you have been the instruments 
of adding one more blest voice to the choirs above. But I must 
close. May God bless you, support and restore you to us in 
safety, is the prayer of your aflfectionate friend and pastor, 

" Edward Payson." 

A letter of counsel to a candidate for the ministry : — 

" My dear brother : — I rejoice to learn that you are in part 
released from the bondage in which you have been so long held. 
That you are released, I infer, first, from the fact that you are 
preaching; and, secondly, from your having written me a letter. 
But what a request does your letter contain ! That I should 
write to you systematically ! I, who never did any thing sys- 
tematically in my life, but have always lived extempore ! If I 
write to you, it must be in the same way. It will be the easi- 
est thing in the world to give you plenty of good advice. All 
the difficulty will be, to make you follow it. If you are like 
me, you will never learn any thing to any purpose, till it is 



320 MEMOIR OF 

beaten into you by painful experience ; and even then, you will 
probably forget it in a tenth part of the time which it took you 
to learn it. However, I will tell you one thing, which experi- 
ence has taught me. If you will believe it, on my word, it 
will save you some suffering. If not, you must learn it, as I 
did, under the scourge. 

" Some time since, I took up a little work, purporting to be 
the lives of sundry characters, as related by themselves. Two 
of those characters agreed in remarking, that they were never 
happy until they ceased striving to be great men. This remark 
struck me, as you know the most simple remarks will strike us, 
when Heaven pleases. It occurred to me at once, that most of 
my sins and sufferings were occasioned by an unwillingness to 
be the nothing which I am, and by consequent struggles to be 
something. I saw that if I would but cease struggling, and 
consent to be any thing, or nothing, just as God pleases, I might 
be happy. You will think it strange, that I mention this as a 
new discovery. In one sense, it was not new ; I had known it 
for years. But I now saw it in a new light. My heart saw it, 
and consented to it; and I am comparatively happy. My dear 
brother, if you can give up all desire to be great, and feel heart- 
ily willing to be nothing, you will be happy too. You must 
not even wish to be a great Christian ; that is, you must not 
wish to make great attainments in religion, for the sake of 
knowing that you have made, or for the sake of having others 
think that you have made them. Very true, very good, you 
will say, though somewhat trite ; but how am I to bring myself 
to such a state 7 Let me ask, in reply, why you are not troub- 
led, when you see one man receive military, and another masonic 
honors? Why are you not unhappy, because you cannot be a 
colonel, a general, or a most worshipful grand high priest. Be- 
cause, you answer, I have no desire for these titles or distinc- 
tions. And why do you not desire them? Simply because 
you are not running a race in competition with those who ob- 
tain them. You stand aside, and say. Let those who wish for 
these things have them. Now if you can, in a similar manner, 
give up all competition with respect to other objects ; if you can 
stand aside from the race which too many other ministers are 
running, and say, from your heart, ' Let those who choose to 
engage in such a race divide the prize ; let one minister run 



EDWARD PAYSON. 321 

away with the money, and another with the esteem, and a third 
with the applause, 6cc. ; I have something else to do ; a differ- 
ent race to run ; be God's approbation the only prize for which 
I run ; let me obtain that, and it is enough ;' I say, if you can, 
from the heart, adopt this language, you will find most of your 
difficulties and sufferings vanish. But it is hard to say this. It 
is almost impossible to persuade any man to renounce the race, 
without cutting off his feet, or, at least, fettering him. This 
God has done for me ; this he has been doing for you. And 
you will, one day, if you do not now, bless him for all your 
sufferings, as I do for mine. I have not suffered one pang too 
much. God was never more kind than when I thought him 
most unkind ; never more faithful than when I Avas ready to 
say. His faithfulness has failed. Let him fetter you, then, if 
he pleases. Consent that he should cut off your feet, if he 
pleases. Any thing is a blessing which prevents us from run- 
ning the fatal race, which we are so prone to run ; which first 
convinces us that we are nothing, and then makes us willing to 
be so." 

To an aged mother, suffering great anxiety on account of the 
disheartened and comfortless condition of her son : — 

" You give yourself too much trouble about P. After you 
have prayed for him, as you have done, and committed him to 
God, should you not cease to feel anxious respecting him 1 The 
command, ' Be careful for nothing,' is unlimited ; and so is the 
expression ' casting all your care upon him.' If we cast our bur- 
dens upon another, can they continue to press upon us 1 If we 
bring them away with us from the throne of grace, it is evident 
we do not leave them there. With respect to myself, I have 
made this one test of my prayers. If, after committing any 
thing to God, I can, like Hannah, come away, and have my 
countenance no more sad, my heart no more pained, or anxious, I 
look upon it as one proof that I prayed in faith ; but, if I bring 
away my burden, I conclude that faith was not in exercise. If 
God has any work for P. to do, he will cause him to do it. He 
made him, as he made everything else, for his own glory, and 
he will cause his glory to be promoted by him. Of course, I 
should not urge this as a reason for neglecting to counsel or pray 

VOL. I. 41 



322 MEMOIR OF 

for him ; but as a reason why, when we have performed these 
duties, Ave should be free from all care and anxiety respecting 
the event. The case of Cowper, which you feared would do 
me hurt, did me much good. It led to such reflections as these ; 
If God could, without injury to himself, or his cause, sufler such 
a mind as that of Cowper to rust in inaction, to be fettered by 
nervous difiiculties and temptations, or to be uselessly employ- 
ed for ten years together in translating a pagan poet, is it any 
wonder, that he should leave my little mind to be fettered and 
crippled, and my time to pass away in a useless manner ? After 
all, I am treated more favorably than he was ; and T desire to 
be thankful that it is no worse with me. You may make simi- 
lar reflections respecting P's case. Should God leave him in 
his present state all his days, it would be nothing new in the 
history of his dealings with his people. And you will allow 
that he has a right to do it, and that he will not do it unless it 
is for the best. Where, then, is any reason for anxiety 7 1 
should like, indeed, to have God make use of me to do great 
things ; and you would have him employ P. to do great things ; 
but if he chooses to leave us both crippled and useless, we 
must submit." 

To the Rev. Daniel Temple, missionary to Western Asia : — 

"Portland, Oct. 13, 1822. 
" My dear brother : — I dare not decline the correspondence 
which you propose. The common rules of civility, to say 
nothing of Christian aflection, forbid it. Yet I do not engage 
in such a correspondence without reluctance. I feel none of the 
confidence which you express, that it will prove beneficial to 
you. Did your sphere of action resemble mine, it is barely pos- 
sible that I might suggest some hints which would be useful. 
But the situation of a missionary in Palestine differs so widely 
from that of a minister in a Christian country, that no advice 
which I can give, would afford you any assistance. And the 
distance between us increases my unwillingness to write. 
Almost any thing in the form of a letter might answer, were it 
to be sent only a few miles ; but a letter which is to cross the 
seas, which is to go to Palestine, ought surely to contain some- 
thing worth reading. Even gold and silver are almost too bulky 



EDWARD PAYSON. 323 

to be sent so far. Such a letter should resemble bank notes, or 
bills of exchange. But such a letter I have no hopes of writ- 
ing. The faculty of condensing much in a small compass, is 
one of the many faculties which I do not possess. However, I 
will write. May he who knows in what circumstances this let- 
ter will find you, guide me to write something which may prove 
a * word in season.' 

*'One of the principal results of the little experience which I 
have had as a Christian minister, is a conviction that religion * 
consists very much in giving God that place in our views and/ 
feelings, which he actually fills in the universe. We know that 
in the universe he is all in all. So far as he is constantly all in 
all to us, so far as we comply with the Psalmist's charge to his 
soul, 'My soul, wait thou only upon God;' so far, I apprehend, 
have we advanced toward perfection. It is comparatively easy 
to wait upon God, but to wait upon him only, — to feel, so far as 
our strength, happiness, and usefulness are concerned, as if all 
creatures and second causes were annihilated, and we were 
alone in the universe with God, is, I suspect, a difficult and rare 
attainment. At least, I am sure it is one which I am very far 
from having made. In proportion as we make this attainment, 
we shall find every thing easy ; for we shall become, emphati- 
cally, men of prayer, and we may say of prayer, as Solomon 
says of money, that it answereth all things. I have often thought 
that every minister, and especially every missionary, ought fre- 
quently to read, or at least call to mind, Foster's Essay on the 
Epithet Romantic, If you have not his Essays at hand, you 
may, perhaps, recollect some of his concluding remarks. After 
showing that it is highly romantic to expect extraordinary success 
from ordinary means, he adds to this efl^ect, — 'The individual, 
who should solemnly resolve to try the best and last possible 
efficacy of prayer, and unalterably determine that heaven should 
not withhold a single influence, which the utmost effort of per- 
severing prayer could bring down, would probably find himself 
becoming a much more successful agent in his little sphere.' 
Very few missionaries since the apostles, probably, have tried 
the experiment. He, who shall make the first trial, will, I 
believe, eflfect wonders. May you, my dear brother, be that 
happy man. Nothing that I could write, nothing which an 
angel could write, would be necessary to him who should make 



324 MEMOIR OF 

this trial. I trust that you will find our Master is as really- 
present in Palestine as he was in the days of his flesh; that you 
will sometimes enjoy his presence in the very places in which 
it was formerly enjoyed by the apostles. We read that, on one 
occasion, they ' returned to Jesus, and told him all things, both 
what they had done, and what they had taught. ' If we were, 
in like manner, to come to his feet every evening, and tell him 
where we have been, what we have done, what we have said, 
and what were our eniotions through the day ; we should, I 
believe, find it both pleasant and profitable. Perhaps he would 
say to us, as he did to them, Come apart, and rest with me 
awhile. May he often invite you to rest awhile with him, to 
refresh you when faint and weary, and, after a long life of use- 
fulness, take you to rest with him forever in his own heaven. 

''I write no religious intelligence, for you will have it in the 
Recorder, — I may, however, mention, that the ministers in this 
State agreed to observe the first day of the present year, as a 
day of fasting and prayer. In consequence, we have had more 
revivals in the State this year than in any former year, though 
none of them has been very extensive. About forty have been 
added to our church. We long to have good news from Palestine, 
but are aware that we must wait and pray long, before we can 
expect to hear much. 

"I commend you to God, my dear brother, and send this letter 
merely as a proof of Christian afiection. " 

To a ministering brother at a distance, whose labors were 
suspended by sickness: — 

"I thank you for your letter, though, in consequence of the 
unfavorable information which it communicated respecting your 
health, it gave me quite as much pain as pleasure. I had hoped 
to hear a better account of you. But why do I say hoped? or 
what business have I to talk of hoping or fearing, when God is 
ordering every thing in infinite wisdom and mercy? The fact 
is, I usually find it much easier to acquiesce in my own afliictions, 
than in those of my friends ; for I can see that afilictions are 
absolutely necessary for me, but do not see with equal clearness 
that they are necessary for them. But if I do not see it, God 
does, or he would not afflict them. As you are in his hands, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 325 

you will be well the moment that he sees it best you should be 
so; and why should I wish you to be well any sooner? How- 
ever, I should be glad to hear that the time is arrived, and that 
you are able to resume your labors. If you are not, and are 
inquiring of your Master what he would have you do, his 
answer is, ' Lie down at my feet and be quiet, till I give you 
strength to get up and work. ' But he knows we had rather 
labor than suffer; and that we had rather labor and suffer too, 
than be laid aside; and therefore he sometimes lays us aside for 
awhile, in order to try us with what is most disagreeable. Be- 
sides, no man is fit to rise up and labor, until he is made willing 
to lie still and suffer as long as his Master pleases. But I had 
almost forgotten that I am writing a letter, and not a sermon. 
This is the less to be wondered at, because I laid aside a sermon 
to scribble to you. I will try to be less forgetful in future. 

"The revival which you predicted is not arrived ; and, what 
is worse, we see no signs of its approaching, unless increasing 
deadness is a sign. At the lastimion prayer meeting, I proposed 
that all the churches should unite in observing a day of fasting 
and prayer, and assemble in the morning at one meeting-house, 
in the afternoon at another, and in the evening at a third. No 
objection was made; but it was thought best to appoint a com- 
mittee to consult each church in form. If they agree to the 
proposal, as I think they will, we shall appoint some day next 
week, and have notice given from the pulpits on the preceding 
Sabbath. * * ^ 

"I hope the good people of B., C, &c., have become quiet 
again, since La Fayette's departure. When will the Saviour 
be invited to visit us, and be welcomed as he was? Not, I am 
afraid, in my day, nor yours. 

" I have nothing more to say, except that my health is in the 
best state possible ; and yet it is very bad. I leave you to solve 
the riddle, if it is one, at your leisure. When you have nothing 
better to do, write to me, and tell me that you are the better foi 
having been sick. " 

To a kinsman under spiritual trials : — 

'* My DEAR BROTHER : — I havc just received your doleful epistle 
and. though parochial cares press upon me, — having just 



326 MEMOIR OF 

retumed from a journey, I must snatch a moment to answer it. 
Would to God I could write something which would prove 
serviceable, but I fear I shall not. However, I will make the 
attempt, and may God bless it. You have no reason to suppose 
that there is any thing peculiar or discouraging in your present 
situation. God is dealing with you as he did with Hezekiah; 
when he left him, to try him, that he ' might know all that was 
in his heart.' If you have ever read Mr. Newton's description 
of grace in the blade, in the ear, and in the full corn, you will 
recollect, that he mentions ' desire,' as the characteristic of the 
first stage, and ' conflict,' as that of the second. If I understand 
your letter, you have entered on the stage of conflict, and must 
now expect more distressing proofs of the desperate wickedness 
of your heart, than you had before experienced. In another 
letter, Mr. Newton says, ' I believe God never gives his people 
much of a victory over the world, till he has left them to feel 
how great is its power over them.' This remark, I have no 
doubt, is true ; and God, I trust, is now*, preparing you for a 
victory over the world, by showing you more of its strength 
and your own weakness. Besides, I have no doubt that your 
present trials are occasioned, in part, by the state of your 
health. But, however this may be, let me assure you, that, so 
long as sin is seen, hated, resisted ; so long as we groan under 
it, and struggle against it, it shall not harm us. Do not, then, 
yield to discouragement ; do not neglect the means of grace, as 
you will sometimes be strongly tempted to do; do not cease 
struggling, because your struggles seem to avail nothing ; but 
continue, like Gideon, though ' faint, yet pursuing.' Could 
I tell you what bitter proofs I have had of my desperate, des- 
perate depravity — how often I have been brought to my wit's 
end — how often I should have chosen strangling and death 
rather than life, and how I have been carried through all, it 
would, I think, afford you some encouragement. But perhaps 
you will say, ^ If I could feel distressed, if I were not so stupid 
in this situation, it would encourage me.' And how, let me 
ask, are you to learn that your heart is like the nether mill- 
stone, except by being left for a time, to feel that nothing can 
either melt or move it 7 I do not, of course, mean to justify or 
excuse this hardness of heart. It is a most abominable and 
detestable evil, and I should be very sorry to say any thing 



EDWARD PAYSON. 327 

which should lead you to think lightly of it; still, if our hearts 
are hard and wicked, in a far greater degree than we ever con- 
ceived of, it is surely best that we should know it ; else, how 
should we ever be duly grateful to our great physician for heal- 
ing us. Heal you he will, my dear brother, I doubt not ; but 
he will first make you know how sick, how mortally sick you 
are. In consequence, you will think more highly than ever ot 
his kindness, faithfulness, and skill ; you will love much, 
because much has been forgiven you ; and you will be better 
prepared to join in the song of ' Worthy is the Lamb.' I must 
again, however, beseech you not to let sin turn these precious 
truths to poison, by tempting you to think lightly of sin ; and 
not by any means be driven from attempting to read, watch, 
meditate, and pray. In your present situation, this is the 
great danger. You will be strongly tempted to despondency 
and unbelief, and when these evils prevail, you will be tempted 
to neglect the means of grace as useless, or as means which 
you cannot use aright. Resist this temptation, and all will be 
well." 

Filial and fraternal duty happily recognized : — 

" My dear mother : — I should sooner have answered your 
last, had I not expected, ere this, to see you. But the stage 
disappointed me. I had engaged a place in it, and sat up all 
night waiting for it, but it did not come. Thus, no doubt for 
some wise reasons, my visit to you was prevented. I had two 
particular reasons for wishing to come. One was, to talk with 
P. He is certainly wrong ; he is entangled in a snare of Satan; 
he can pray, and he must pray ; he has no excuse. His unwil- 
lingness to have you press him on the subject is wrong. I know 
all about it. I have been in the same snare myself. Whatever 
P. may now think, he will, sooner or later, be convinced that 
the grand difficulty lies, not in his nerves, but in his heart. I 
hope he will not pretend that his constitution is more shattered, 
or his health worse than mine. But I have never seen the time 
when I could not pray, if my heart was right. Let him not 
think, however, that I mean to censure him harshly. I have 
been too guilty myself, to allow of this. But I do beseech him, 
if he has any regard to his happiness here or hereafter, not to 



328 MEMOIR OF 

let Satan persuade him that he is unable to pray. There 
have been many seasons, in which I could pray only while 
walking my study, and, even then, only in short, vehement 
ejaculations. If 1 knelt down, my head was so confused, that 
I could do nothing. Let him resolve that he will spend 
some time every day in prayer, if he can do nothing more than 
cry, * Lord, pity me ! Lord, help me !' He is ruined if he does 
not. 

" The other reason why I wished to see you, was, to know 
what your plans and wishes are respecting your place of resi- 
dence, when H. moves. I thought that you might, perhaps, 
feel unwilling to move so far as New York. I hope it is 
needless to tell my dear mother, that if she chooses to make her 
home with us, we will do all in our power to make her home 
comfortable. I hope she will consult nothing but her own 
inclinations. If her children can do any thing to make the 
remainder of her days comfortable, I trust they all have a 
full disposition to do it. She has only to say the word, and we 
will place her where she thinks she will be most comfortable. 

" You will be glad to hear that, for a few weeks, I have en- 
joyed some respite from my sufferings. I observed the last 
anniversary of my ordination, and the first day of the present 
year, as days of fasting and prayer ; and, though I could do little 
more than groan and sigh, a blessing has followed. I have 
suffered none too much. Not one pang could have been spared. 
Should I suffer hereafter, do not let it distress you. It is all 
necessary ; all will be well at last." 

Trembling Christians directed to the source of joy and 
strength : — 

" Many of the church have been so much distressed, that I 
thought it necessary to comfort them, if possible, and, on the 
Sabbath morning, preached from 1 Sam. xii. 20 — 24:, ' Fear not; 
ye have done all this wickedness,' (fee. My design was, to show 
trembling, desponding Christians, that, notwithstanding all their 
great wickedness, they ought still to follow God with confidence 
and increasing dihgence ; and that, if they would do this, they 
need not despond, or despair, when God shows them what is in 
their hearts. Meditate on the passage, if you please ; and I 



EDWAED PAYSON. 329 

hope it may encourage you as much as it did the church. 1 
have preached more respecting Christ of late than ever ; and 
am more and more convinced that the knowledge of Christ cruci- 
fied is the one thing needful, the grand source of peace, and joy, 
and growth in grace. Count all things loss for the excellency 
of this knowledge ; and pray for it more than for any thing else, 
and you will find it to be so." 

To a brother, who shrunk from his duty, through depression 
of mind, and an erroneous opinion of his own qualifications for 
the ministry. Lest any should use the authority of Dr. Payson's 
name to urge men to assume the sacred office without the re- 
quisite qualifications, it ought to be stated, that the person addres- 
sed in the following letter, besides possessing decided piety, had 
passed through a regular course of preparatory studies at a 
theological seminary : — 

*' My dear brother : — Your letter found me more than ordi- 
narily hurried ; hut I feel it to be so important that you should 
be licensed this fall, that I must snatch a moment to answer it. 
Your feelings, as you describe them, are just like mine, only 
less aggravated by long continuance. I mention this that you 
may pay more regard to my advice. I am as certain that it is 
best for you to take license immediately, as I can be of any 
thing. Rely upon it, that, if you delay, your difficulties will 
increase, and you will feel more and more as if it was impos- 
sible to preach. Your only safety lies in placing yourself in 
circumstances which will make exertion necessary, and which 
will secure divine assistance. Never mind your infirmities. 
You have nothing to do with them. Your business is to trust, 
and go forward. If you wait till the sea becomes land, you 
will never walk on it. You must leave the ship, and, - like 
Peter, set your feet upon the waves, and you will find them 
marble. Christ is a good Master. He wont suffer you to sink ; 
and you will, at length, glory in your infirmities. I would not 
give up the precious proofs which I have received, in conse- 
quence of my weakness, of his power, faithfulness, and love, 
for all the comforts of good health. But be assured, that, if 
you remain as you are, Satan will weave a net round you, 
which you will never break. Every mental and religious effort 



330 MEMOIR OF 

will become more difficult and painful ; your mind will be like 
the body of a rickety child; you will live a burden to yourself 
and friends, and die without the consolation of having been 
made useful. This would infallibly have been my fate, had I 
not been thrust into the ministry before I well knew what I was 
about. Yet you see I have, somehow or other, been carried 
along, and so will you be. Do not then, my dear, dear brother, 
stand hesitating. A feeble, nervous man must not deliberate, 
but act ; for his deliberation will not be worth a straw, but his 
activity may be, and probably will be, useful both to himself 
and others. 

" When Christ told his disciples to feed the multitude with 
five loaves, they did not hesitate, and say, Lord, let us first see 
the bread multiplied; if we begin and have not enough, we 
shall be put to shame ; — but they distributed what they had, 
and it increased with the distribution. So you will find it. You 
must, therefore, go forward. There is no reason why you should 
not. If you delay, indolence will steal upon you, and bind you 
in chains, which you will never break. 

*•' I charge you, then, before God and the Lord Jesus Christ, 
to be up and doing. There are fifty places in this State, where 
the most unconnected things, which your lips could utter, would 
do good, and be well received. You have no conception by 
what apparently feeble means God often works wonders. Let 
the next tidings I hear from you be, that you have crossed the 
Rubicon ; or, rather, let me see you here forthwith, in the char- 
acter of a preacher. 

" My health is as usual, but my Master is more than usually 
kind. At my request, the church lately had a special meeting 
to pray for me. God has heard them wonderfully, and my cup 



Prudential advice on the preservation of health, addressed t© 
a student in divinity: — 

*'My dear brother : — I am sorry to learn that your health is 
not better, but rather worse, than when I was at R. Should it 
not have improved before you receive this, I beg you will attend 
to it without delay; attend to it, as your first and chief duty; 
for such, be assured, it is. ' A merciful man is merciful to his 



EDWARD PAYSON. 331 

beast ;' and you must be merciful to your beast, or as Mr. M, 
would say, to your ' animal. ' Remember that it is your Master's 
property ; and he will no more thank you for driving it to death, 
than an earthly master would thank a servant for riding a val- 
uable horse to death, under pretence of zeal for his interest. 
The truth is, I am afraid Satan has jumped on to the saddle, and 
when he is there, in the guise of an angel of light, he whips and 
spurs at a most unmerciful rate, as every joint in my poor bro- 
ken-winded animal can testify, from woful experience. He has 
temptations for the conscience, as Mr. Newton well observes ; 
and when other temptations fail, he makes great use of them. 
Many a poor creature has he ridden to death, by using his con- 
science as a spur ; and you must not be ignorant, nor act as if 
you were ignorant of his devices. K.emember Mr. Brainerd's 
remark, that diversions, rightly managed, increased, rather than 
diminished his spirituality. I now feel that I am never serving 
our Master more acceptably, than when, for his sake, I am using 
means to preserve my health, and lengthen my life ; and you 
must feel in a similar manner, if you mean to do him much 
service in the world. He knows what you would do for him if 
you could. He knows that your spirit is willing, when your 
flesh is weak. Do not think less favorably of him than you 
would of a judicious, affectionate father. Do not think that he 
requires' you to labor, when such a father would enjoin rest or 
relaxation. Ride, then, or go a fishing, or employ yourself in 
any way, which will exercise the body gently, without wearying 
the mind. Above all, make trial of the shower bath. You can 
easily fix up something which will answer the purpose. Try 
it, first, about ten o'clock in the morning, when the weather is 
warm ; and if you feel a glow after it, it does you good; but if 
it occasions chilliness, you must rather try a warm bath. My 
dear brother, do attend immediately to these hints, for much 
depends upon it." 

To two young sisters, the children of distant friends : — 

" I wish to show you that I feel a deep interest in your 



eternal welfare, and am willing to do any thing in my power to 
promote it. There is a circumstance related in the book of 
Judges, respecting the early part of Samson's life, which suggests 



332 MEMOIR OP 

some thoughts that may perhaps be useful to you. We are there 
toldj that ' the child grew, and that the Lord blessed him, and 
that the Spirit of the Lord began to move him at times. ^ I have 
no doubt that, in a little different sense, the Spirit of God begins, 
very early, to move, at times,. upon the minds of children and 
young persons; especially of those, who, like Samson, have 
pious parents, and have been, like him, dedicated to God. He 
has thus, I believe, at times, moved upon your minds. Have 
you not reason to suppose that He has 7 Have you not some- 
times had serious thoughts and feelings arise in your minds, 
without any apparent cause ? Have you not found something 
within you which urged upon you the necessity of prayer, of 
remembering your Creator, and of preparing for death ? My 
dear young friends, that something was the Spirit of God, mov- 
ing upon your minds. Whenever such thoughts and feelings 
rise without any external cause, you may be certain that he is 
near you. Have you not also found that religious instruction 
affects you very differently at different times? Sometimes, per- 
haps, it scarcely affects you at all. At other times, the same 
truths take firm hold of your attention, and excite your feelings. 
Now, what occasions this difference ? It is this. At one time, 
the Spirit of God presses home the truth upon your minds, and 
causes it to affect you. At another time. He does not apply it, 
and then it produces no effect. Our Saviour, you recollect, com- 
pares the operations of the Spirit to those of the wind. Now, 
when you see the branches of a tree agitated, without any visible 
cause, you conclude, at once, that the wind is blowing upon 
them. Just so, when your minds are interested and affected in 
a serious manner by religious considerations, you may conclude 
that the Holy Spirit is moving upon them. And can you not 
recollect many seasons, or at least some seasons, in which He 
has thus moved upon them 7 If so, consider how great a favor, 
how great an act of condescension it was, on the part of God, 
thus to visit you. Had he sent an angel from heaven to warn 
you, you would have thought it a great favor. You would have 
been ready to ask, with surprise. Why does the infinite, ever- 
lasting God condescend to send an angel from heaven to promote 
our welfare 7 But for God to send His Spirit to mgve upon your 
minds, is a much greater favor, a much greater act of condescen- 
sion, than it would be to send an angel to you. O then, how 



EDWAKD PAYSON. 333 

greatly ought you to love and thank him for such a favor, and 
how carefully should you cherish, how humbly should you 
yield to the motions of this heavenly visitor! Are you still 
favored with his visits 7 Does he still move, at times, upon your 
minds? If so, be careful, O be scrupulously careful, not to grieve 
Him, and cause Him to forsake you. But perhaps he has al- 
ready withdrawn from you. If so, will you not implore His 
return? Will you not, after reading this, kneel down and say, 
' Lord, I have ungratefully neglected and grieved thy good Spirit, 
and He has justly withdrawn from me. It would be just, should 
He never return to me. Yet, in thy great mercy, let Him return, 
and again move upon my mind, let Him come, and enlighten 
and sanctify me, ' Let this be your daily urgent request." 

To his parents under various and accumulated aflaiictions: — 

'' What a catalogue of trials does your letter contain ! I am 
more and more convinced of what I have long suspected, that 
God tries his people, first, with inward, spiritual trials ; and, 
then, when they have acquired some degree of experience, and 
faith has become strong, he visits them with outward afflictions. 

"Dr. Owen says, that Heb. xii. 6 ought to be rendered, 
'whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth; yea, also, he severely 
chastiseth, above the ordinary measure, those sons whom he 
accepts, and peculiarly delights in.' If this rendering be cor- 
rect, — and the doctor certainly makes it appear so, — my 
parents have reason to think themselves special favorites. Per- 
haps, for a short time before death, God's people may be, in a 
measure, exempted from both inward and outward trials. 

''I have tried to write, because your letter ought to be answer- 
ed, and because I wished to write something consolatory under 
your afflictions; but I can only echo back your groans!" 

To a Christian brother of rank and wealth : — 

" I have thought much of your situation, smce I left you. 
It is but seldom that God gives one of his children so many tem- 
poral blessings, as he has given you. He has hitherto preserved 
you, and will, I trust, continue to preserve you, from the evils, 
which attend a state of prosparity. But it is, as you are aware, 



334 MEMOIR OF 

a dangerous state, and calls for great watchfulness, and much 
prayer. You are, doubtless, conscious of many evil propensities 
working within ; but they may work long, and produce much 
internal mischief, before their effects become external and visible 
to others. The effects of temporal prosperity upon the mind, 
resemble those of an unhealthy atmosphere upon the body. 
The constitution is gradually, and almost insensibly, undermin- 
ed and weakened ; and yet no particular part can be pointed- 
out, as the seat of the disease, for the poison is diffused through 
the whole system. Spiritual lassitude, the loss of spiritual ap- 
petite, and an indisposition to vigorous spiritual exertion, are 
some of the first perceptible symptoms, that the poison of pros- 
perity is at work. When a man detects these symptoms in 
himself, it is time for him to be alarmed. If he delays a little 
longer, the disease will make such progress, as to render him 
insensible to his danger. Were I placed in such a situation, I 
should be ruined in six months. Still, your situation is, in one 
respect, desirable. It is one in which you may do much 
for the glory of God, and the promotion of his cause." 

To his revered mother, on leaving her habitation, at the final 
dispersion of her family, August, 1824: — 

"My dear mother: — I was a little surprised, when you 
were with us, to hear you say nothing of the unpleasantness of 
being obliged, at your age, to remove far from the place where 
you had spent so many years. It seemed to me that such a re- 
moval must involve many circumstances which would be very 
disagreeable, and even painful. But, as you said little or 
nothing on the subject, I concluded that it did not appear equal- 
ly unpleasant to you. It seems from your letter, however, that 
the time of trial had not then arrived, and that you have since 
been troubled about your removal as I expected you would be. 
I am glad to find that the trial has now lost something of its 
bitterness, and that you feel reconciled to go where Providence 
calls. You have some illustrious examples, among God's an- 
cient servants, to encourage and instruct you. Abraham, called 
to leave his country and his father's house, and Jacob, obliged 
in his old age to go down into Egypt, had trials harder, proba- 
bly, than yours, though of the same nature. But they went, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 335 

I 

and God went with them ; and he will go with you ; doubt it 
not. On the other hand, see how he dealt with his enemies. 
' Moab hath been at ease from his youth, and hath not been 
emptied from vessel to vessel ; therefore his taste remaineth in 
him, and his scent is not changed.' You have not been at ease 
from your youth, and you have been emptied from vessel to 
vessel, and you are now to be emptied again from one vessel to 
another. And surely this is better than to be treated like Moab, 
and possess his character. Besides, as God said to Jacob, in 
his old age, ' Fear not to go down into Egypt ;' so he says to 
you, ' Fear not to go wherever I call ; for my presence shall go 
with you.' I hope you feel no anxieties of a pecuniary nature. 
While one of your children has any thing, you will not want. 
But. why do I say this? Rather let me say, The Lord is your 
Shepherd, and, while he possesses anything, you shall not want. 
Poor **'**j too, will be taken care of As to ^***=^*=** I can 
only say, once more. Leave him with his Master. He knows 
what to do with him, and he will do all things well. If he 
chooses rather that ******** should suffer, he will overrule 
all his sufferings for good. Only pray for him and then leave 
him. 

'' I preached yesterday on this passage : — ' Though he will 
not give him because he is his friend, yet, because of his impor- 
tunity, he will rise and give him as many as he needeth.' This, 
as well as the parable of the unjust judge, evidently teaches, 
that importunate prayer will prevail when nothing else can. A 
man may pray ten times, and be denied ; and yet, by praying 
ten times more, obtain the blessing. Had the Syro-Phoenician 
ceased, after making three applications to Christ, she would 
have gone away empty; but, by applying once more, she ob- 
tained all that she asked. 

" It has been a time of trial with me, as well as with you since 
we parted. I have been reduced lower, in point of health, than 
on any former occasion. For four weeks I was unable to preach, 
and doubted whether I should ever preach more. But this was 
all my trial, and I was kept very quiet. My sermon on ' Be 
still,' &c., followed me, and God, in mercy, inclined me to be 
still. My people urged me very strongly to make a voyage to 
Europe, and offered to supply the pulpit and pay all my expen- 
ses. But, though I should like well enough to see Europe, I 



33'0 MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 

could not feci any freedom to go. I did not like to have so 
much expense lavished upon me, nor did I know how to lose 
so much time as such a voyage would require. I am now bet- 
ter, and have been able to preach the three last Sabbaths. But 
I seem to preach in vain. There is no noise nor shaking among 
the dry bones ; and, even of the church, I may almost say. 
There is no breath in them. But I am kept from impatience, 
and am not quite discouraged. As I know how desirous you 
feel that your children should love each other, 1 would tell you, 
if I could, how much I love E. I loved lier much before her 
last visit, and she endeared herself still more to us during that 
visit. I believe, too, that I love my brothers pretty well. Do 
tell them so. What you say respecting the com])laints of min- 
isters who visit us, I have heard before. I do not wonder <>t it. 
They have some reason to complain. But the reason of our 
apparent coldness is what you suppose it to be. Pressed down 
to the very dust, as I usually am, I cannot always dress my 
countenance in smiles, nor prevent it from expressing my suffer- 
ings. Hence I am unpopular among ministers. It is a trial, 
but I cannot help it," 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



His private character — His affections and demeanor as a husband, father, 
master, fiiend — ^His gratitude, economy, generosity — ^His temper of mind 
under injuries. 



It is not every character that will bear a close inspection. 
The more intimately some men are viewed, the less veneration 
and respect are felt for them. This is true of some in elevated 
stations, and possessing no small share of public confidence. 
Even the church presents this anomaly. A man may bear a 
saint-like visage abroad, and yet be a very fiend in his own 
family ; may put on meekness and devotion in a worshipping 
assembly, while he is the haughty tyrant of his wife and chil- 
dren ; may preach self-denial and condescension, and yet carry 
it lordly towards the inmates of his own dwelling, making 
them the ministers of his will and pleasure, or else imbittering 
their existence by his savage temper and unreasonable com- 
plaints. 

Professional men, whose public duties are very numerous and 
urgent, are liable to fail in many of those minute regards which 
contribute so much to heighten the 

" only bliss 



Of paradise which has survived the faU." 



With the prevailing desire and purpose to yield to every claim 
its due consideration, they are in danger of thinking that they 
do well if they are only indifferent to those of the least imposing 
VOL. I. 43 



338 MEMOIR OF 

description which originate in their domestic relations ; that 
they are not only excusable, but disinterested and praiseworthy, 
in neglecting, from devotion to the public welfare, the ten thou- 
sand little attentions to a wife's comfort and children's instruc- 
tion and enjoyment, which, though each requires but a moment's 
time, and, taken singly, scarcely deserves specification, consti- 
tute, in the aggregate, the principal part of domestic felicity. 
But a man's circumstances must be very peculiar, to render 
these two classes of duties incompatible with each other. The 
look of affection, the kind word seasonably interposed, the help- 
ing hand which love extends, the eye ever awake to anticipate 
the little wants of the household, the heart prompt to seize op- 
portunities to soothe sorrow, to calm excited feelings, to inspire 
and promote joy, and to alleviate the burden of maternal anxie- 
ties and cares which press incessantly upon the wife, — what 
sacrifice of public duty do these require ? Yet who can calcu- 
late the misery which they prevent, or the blessedness which 
they confer ? . As it is not great calamities which render men 
uiihappy, but petty injuries, and provocations, and disappoint- 
ments, constantly recurring, too trifling to excite public sympa- 
thy, or to be made the subject of loud complaint. — so it is not 
insulated acts of profuse generosity, and widely separated, 
though extravagant expressions of affection, which constitute 
the reality or the happiness of friendship — especially of a friend- 
ship so pure and endearing as ought ever to subsist between 
those wlio arc united by conjugal ties. These holy bonds are 
cemented and strengthened by daily and hourly acts and ex- 
pressions of kindness. And where, in the whole compass of 
niolives, could a consideration be found to enforce this conjugal 
tenderness, so affecting and impressive as that example of love 
to which St. Paul refers the husband for a pattern of his own 
duly ? — and it may be added what other reference could have 
conferred such exalted honor on the marriage relation ? — '-Hus- 
bands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church. Be 
noi bitter against them." This was Dr. Payson's law in all that 
jM^rtaincd to conjugal duties ; and to this his daily practice ex- 
hibited as exact a conformity, perhaps, as is ever seen in this 
state of imperfection. Reasons have already been suggested, why 
a sparing use should be made of those letters which exhibit his 
tenderness and fidelity in this relation ; but a few extracts may 
with propriety be introduced; — 



edward pay son. 339 

At seAj may 10, 1815. 

" My dear wife : — As this is the first time I have had occa- 
sion to address a letter to you since we were married, I thought 
it necessary, before I began, to consider, a few moments, by 
what title to address you. The result of my meditations w^as 
a determination to employ the term ' wife' in preference to any 
other. If you ask why I prefer that name, I answer. Because 
it reminds me that you are mine, my own. I might call you 
'Dear Louisa,' 'Dear friend,' or 'Dear' any thing else — and 
it might mean only that you were a sister, a friend, or a favorite. 
But, when I call you ' My wife, ' it seems to me to mean every 
thing sweet, amiable, and endearing. It not only reminds nio 
that she to Avhom I write is, under God, mine, but that she is 
mine by the gift and appointment of God — mine by the sacred 
bond of marriage, which seems to give an air of sacredness to 
our union. After all, I have not said what I meant to say, but 
something a little like it. So do you try to imagine what I 
meant to say, and then confess that I have succeeded better 
than you, in choosing a title with which to head a letter. For 
my oAvn part, I would rather you should call me ' Dear hus- 
band,' than ' Dear friend,' or 'Dear Edward,' &c. However 
call me by what name you please, your letters will always be 
precious while they continue to utter the language of affection. 
I have just been reading one of two which I have already found 
among my baggage. If you knew the pleasure they gave me, 
you would feel well paid for the trouble of writing. I fully in- 
tended to write at least one to you, and leave it behind me ; but I 
could think of no place to put it, in which you would be cer- 
tain to find it. But I must hasten to give you some account of 
our voyage : — 

" Friday and Saturday, we had fair winds and pleasant 
weather, and I was not at all sea-sick. But on Sunday, it be- 
gan to rain and blow hard. In the evening, it increased to 
quite a gale, but was still favorable ; so that, on Monday noon 
we found ourselves, by observation, ninety miles south of Phil- 
adelphia. Since that time, we have been beating about, vainly 
trying to get within the capes of Delaware. We have just 
taken a pilot on board, and hope to reach Philadelphia in about 
forty-eight hours. Since the gale on Sunday, the doctor and I 
have been very sick, and able to eat nothing. For two days 



340 MEMOIR OF 

and nights, without intermission, I was tormented with one of 
my nervous head-aches. This morning it has left me, and I 
begin to feel something like an appetite. I will only add now, 
as an excuse for writing so miserably, that I am, at this mo- 
ment, tossing and rolling about worse than a boy in a swing, 
or on the end of a plank. Every thing near me, which is 
movable, rolls from side to side incessantly ; and I should do 
the same, did I not hold on to something stable. 1 will, 
therefore, defer the conclusion of my letter till I am more es- 
tablished." 

Philadelphia, May U. 
" We arrived here last night, after a most delightful sail up 
the Delaware. Wind and tide both favored us, so that we 
came at the rate of eleven miles an hour, for ten hours succes- 
sively. Scarcely ever have I experienced so much pleasure in 

one day. Every body seemed happy. Dr. and I were 

in high health and spirits ; the prospect on the banks of the 
river was delightful and changing every moment ; the day was 
fine, and the swiftness of our motion was very agreeable ; and, 
to crown all, I saw God in his works, and tasted of his good- 
ness in every thing. Excess of pleasure was almost painful ; 
before night, I was fairly weary of enjoyment, and wished for 
sleep. I thought of you almost every moment ; and nothing 
but the presence of yourself and the children was wanting, to 
render me as happy as I can ever be in this world. Last night 
I dreamed that I had reached home. I felt your tears of affec- 
tion upon my cheek, and little Edward's arms round my neck ; 
but I awoke, and it was a dream. I have not yet been ashore. 
Every body on board is in a bustle ; the passengers hastening 
to visit their friends, and I standing away in one corner alone, 
talking with my best, dearest earthly friend. You, at the dis- 
tance of five hundred miles, have more attractions for me than 
the whole city of Philadelphia, which lies spread out before me, 
and on which I have scarcely, as yet, bestowed a glance. If I 
did not write thus early, I should not be able to send my letter 
to-day ; and you would be obUged to wait one day longer before 
you heard from us. I now begin to regret that I did not urge 
you more to meet me at New Haven. It would be a gratifica- 
tion to have you so much nearer to me, and to think of meeting 



EDWARD PAYSON. 341 

you SO much sooner. 1 still have a faint hope that you will be 
there. 

" Kiss the children for me ; talk to them about me ; love me 
as I do you, better than I did — yes, far better than I did, when 
I wrote the last letter to you before we were married. Love to 
all who inquire for me. God be with you, bless you, keep you 
my dear, dear wife. 

" So prays your affectionate husband." 

In a letter written during another season of absence, is the 
following beautiful passage, in which the gentle and the severe 
are most charmingly blended : — 

" Though your letter was consoling, it grieved me for 

a moment. It did not seem to breathe so much tenderness as 
your former letters. But I soon perceived the reason. Your 
mind was braced up to help me bear my burdens ; and in such 
a state of mind, it is not easy to feel or express tenderness. I 
hope you will remember this remark. You know that I am 
often obliged, while at home, to put on all the iron I can com- 
mand, in order to bear up against trials and discouragements ; 
and many times, when you know nothing of it, I am engaged 
in most distressing inward conflicts. Now, how can a man 
seem tender and affectionate at such a time ? How could a 
soldier, in the heat of battle, stop to smile upon his wife, or kiss 
his children ? Even if he spoke to them at such a time, the 
highly raised state of his feelings would, probably, give some- 
thing like sharpness to his voice. But I forbear excuses. 
Christ was tender and affectionate in the severest agonies, 
the most distressing conflicts. I hope, if I am ever permitted 
to return, you will find me a little more like him than I have 
been." 

In his strictly domestic letters, he sometimes hits off the dif- 
ferent humors, peculiarities, relations, and circumstances of 
himself and his connexions, with inimitable vivacity, and a 
sportiveness which shows how easily a great man can unbend 
himself when occasion requires. A short passage from the close 
of one such letter will serve as a specimen of the qualities allu- 
ded to ; and, like his saitre upon quackery, may serve a more 



342 MEMOIR OF 

important purpose than mere amusement. In the keen irony 
which pervades it, is an effectual rebuke of that doating partial- 
ity, which leads so many parents to think their own children 
prodigies of genius : — 

" As to baby, she is to be the greatest genius, and the greatest 
beauty in these parts. I could easily fill a sheet with proofs of 
her talents. Suffice it to say, that she has four teeth ; stands 
alone ; says joa' and 771a' ; no — no — ^very stoutly, and has been 
whipped several times for being wiser than her father." 

With a heart always more ready to confer favors than to re- 
ceive them, his condition was very frequently such, that he 
needed rather " to be ministered unto, than to minister ;" but 
the most agonizing suffering of body, when exempted from 
depression of mind, never rendered him the less cheerful and 
agreeable husband and father. It is astonishing how " lightly 
he esteemed such afflictions.' They seemed to affect him 
almost as little as violence inflicted on a block or a stone. His 
demeanor under bodily agonies has often been such, that he 
was rather envied than pitied by his family and attendants. 
These were, indeed, seasons of unusual gayety and cheerful- 
ness. He has left a description of the accumulated evils that 
were crowded into a few days, into which his playful imagina- 
tion has thrown so much of humor, as to divest the subject of 
its repulsive character, and clothe it with no ordinary attrac- 
tions. But it is chiefly interesting as an illustration of a happy 
temper : — 

" Since I wrote last, I have been called to sing of mercy 

and judgment. My old friend, the Sick Head-ache, has favored 
me with an unusual share of his company, and has seemed 
particularly fond of visiting me on the Sabbath. Then came 
Cholera Morbus, and, in a few hours, reduced me so low, that I 
could have died as easily as not. Rheumatism next arrived, 
eager to pay his respects, and embraced my right shoulder with 
such ardor of affection, that he had well nigh torn it from its 
socket. I had not thought much of this gentleman's powers 
before ; but he has convinced me of them so thoroughly, that I 
shall think and speak of them with respect as long as I live. Not 



EDWARD PAYSON. 343 

content with giving me his company all day, for a fortnight 
together, he has insisted on sitting up with me every night, and, 
what is worse, made me sit up too. During this time, my poor 
shoulder, neck, and hack, seemed to be a place in which the 
various pains and aches had assembled to keep holiday ; and the 
delectable sensations of stinging, pricking, cutting, lacerating, 
wrenching, burning, gnawing, <fec., succeeded each other, or all 
mingled together, in a confusion that was far from being pleas- 
ing. The cross old gentleman, though his zeal is somewhat 
abated by the fomentations, blisters, &c., with which we 
welcomed him, still stands at my back threatening that he will 
not allow me to finish my letter. But enough of him and his 
companions. Let me leave them for a more pleasing theme. 

" God has mercifully stayed his rough wind in the day of his 
east wind. No horrible, hell-born temptations, no rheumatism 
of the mind has been allowed to visit me in my sutTerings ; but 
such consolations, such heavenly visits, as turned agony into 
pleasure, and constrained me to sing aloud, whenever I could 
catch my breath long enough to utter a stanza. Indeed, I have 
been ready to doubt whether pain be really an evil ; for, though 
more pain was crowded into last week, than any other week of 
my life, yet it was one of the happiest weeks I ever spent. 
And now I am ready to say. Come what will come — ^.sickness 
pain, agony, poverty, loss of friends— only let God come with 
them, and they shall be welcome. Praised, blessed forever, be 
his name, for all my trials and afilictions ! There has not been 
one too many — all were necessary, and good, and kind." 

How perfectly versed was he in the heavenly art of extract- 
ing the choicest sweets from the bitterest cup ! — "honey out of 
the rock, and oil out of the flinty rock." How much anguish 
must such a demeanor under suflerings have saved -'the part- 
ners of his blood !" What rare and exquisite enjoyment must 
it have imparted to them, to witness a happiness which the 
calamities of life could not mar ! It was surely an enviable 
privilege to enjoy instructions rendered so emphatical and im- 
pressive by the circumstances of the teacher. 

In another extract may be seen the tender yearnings of a 
father's heart — a heart, nevertheless, in a state of sweet sub- 
jection to " the Father of spirits, who chasteneth us for our 
profit, that we may be partakers of his holiness." ; — 



344 MEMOIR OF 

''May 13, 1816. 
"Your welcome letter, my dear mother, has just arrived. 
You would pity me, if you knew in what circumstances I sit 
down to answer it. For ten days I have been in what Dr. 
Young calls ' the post of observation, darker every hour. ' Poor 
little Caroline lies before me, writhing under the agonies of dropsy 
in the head. The physicians have given her over. Louisa sits 
before me making her shroud; yet she will probably live a week 
longer; her distress increasing every day, till death closes it. I 
thought that I was almost without natural affection; that I did 
not love my children; but I find, to my cost, that I do. Her 
distress wrings every nerve and fibre of my heart. If you have 
ever seen a person die of this dreadful disorder, I need not de- 
scribe it. If you have not, description can give you but little 
idea of it. I am, however, mercifully spared the keener distress 
of being unreconciled to the trial. As yet, I can bless the name 
of the Lord, and I bless him that I can. Whether I shall con- 
tinue to feel so to the end, he only knows. It is painful to see 
her suffer for my sins. It is dreadful to think of having provoked 
such a being as God is, to inflict such sufferings. But it is 
right. The afiiiction is too light, as indeed, every affliction short 
of eternal death would be. I find a great difference between 
the effect of suffering in my own person, and in the person of 
another. Personal sufferings seem to harden the heart, and 
make me selfish, so that I can feel little for others. They will 
drag one's attention home to himself. But suffering in the per- 
son of another seems to have an effect directly opposite, and is, 
therefore, more beneficial. I needed some such trial, to teach 
me how to sympathize with my people in similar circumstances." 

For more than a week afterwards, he watched this child, 
"struggling between life and death" — the victim of complicated 
diseases, the effects of which it would be difficult to describe 
and almost congeals one's blood to read. Yet he was calm " as 
the morning when the sun ariseth; " and, though his health was 
impaired by watching, in addition to his labors, he says of this 
season — '' It has been, on the whole, a happy week. I have 
been unusually free from spiritual trials ; and any thing which 
frees me from tliem is a blessing. Be not distressed on our ac- 
count. We are happy, and can sing, 'sweet affliction,' &c. 
I would not but have had it on any account. " 



EDWARD PAY SON. 345 

It will add nothing to the strength of the impression produced 
by these extracts, to say, that he was a most kind and tender 
husband, a most faithful and affectionate father; but it is adding 
something to their import, to affirm that, in him, these qualities 
were uniform, and manifested in his daily intercourse with his 
household. 

He was the companion of his children. Not unfrequently 
would he descend, as it were, to their level, and mingle, for a 
few moments, in their pastimes, and even invent new diversions 
for tliem ; particularly such as would call forth exertions of skill 
and ingenuity — so that their very amusements might prove a 
profitable exercise, and contribute to the development of their 
intellectual faculties. Games of chance, and every thing which 
bore a distant resemblance to them, he utterly disallowed. He 
delighted to amuse them with pictures; at the same time pouring 
into their minds a knowledge of the arts, or of historical char- 
acters, or of geographical and statistical facts, or of the natural 
history of animals, or whatever else would be most readily sug- 
gested by the picture. 

Often would he entertain his children, either from the stores 
of his own memory, or from his still richer invention, with tales 
and fables ; from which it was their task to deduce the moral, 
as an exercise of their perceptive and reasoning faculties, in pay 
for the entertainment which he had afforded them. If they failed, 
he would, of course, make the application himself. 

So far as he exerted himself for the intellectual advancement 
of his children, he did it not so much by set lessons, and at sea- 
sons set apart for that purpose exclusively, as by incidental 
instructions. There were many days when his engagements 
left him no time to meet them, except at their meals; then — 
indeed it was his common practice — he would improve the time 
spent at the table for this purpose — proposing various questions, 
and inviting inquiries from them, always leaving them with a 
subject for consideration, and often calling upon them at night, 
to mention any new idea which they might have acquired during 
the day. He was much devoted to the welfare of his children ; 
and his cares, burdens and maladies, were oppressive indeed, 
when they did not share a father's attention. 

To instruct them in religion, was, of course his first care. 
Here, also, he wisely consulted their age and capacities, and 

VOL. I. 44 



346 



MEMOIR OF 



imparted it. in measure and kind, as they were able to bear. 
He doubted the expediency of giving rehgious instruction only 
at stated periods, and dealing it out with parade and formality, 
and in tedious addresses. His motto was — ''line upon line, 
precept upon precept; here a little, and there a little," as occa- 
sion offered, or the emergency demanded. 

But he was master, as well as father; "one that ruled well 
his own house, having his children in subjection with all grav- 
ity. " He habitually explained his commands to such of his 
children as were of sufficient age to understand and appreciate 
them ; and always referred to the Scriptures, as the umpire from 
whose decisions there was no appeal. *' The Bible says thus, " 
was the invariable and ultimate argument for enforcing obedi- 
ence. Appeals of this kind contribute greatly to inspire an early 
reverence for the sacred book. It was a willing obedience, and 
from exalted principles, which he aimed to secure. 

He treated his servants as fellow creatures — as if he believed, 
that "God made of one blood all the people that dwell upon the 
earth " — as if he expected to stand with them at the bar, where 
" he shall have judgment without mercy, who hath showed no 
mercy. " They shared his religious instructions, and were 
remembered in his prayers. He also exacted of his children, as 
an inviolable duty, kind and considerate treatment towards the 
domestics. To several of them his counsels and prayers were 
blessed. To one, who had been anxious for her own salvation 
in consequence of his previous fidelity, and apparently lost her 
impressions, he affectionately said, as she entered the parlor, 
bearing a pitcher of water — "I hope the time may never come, 
when you will long for a drop of that water to cool your tongue. " 
It was a word in season — she became a Christian. Another 
was about to leave his family for a gay circle, with the prospect 
of entering a new relation, from which he apprehended danger 
to her soul. At family prayer, the last time she was expected 
to be present, he prayed that the separation might not be eternal. 
The petition was remembered ; she soon returned to her service 
in his family, exhibited evidence of conversion, and afterwards 
died in faith. This tenderness involved no sacrifice of dignity 
or authority on his part; nor did it cause insubordination on the 
part of servants, but in most cases, a more willing and faithful 
service. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 347 

In his family devotions he was never tedious. They were 
always impressive, and adapted with surprising appropriateness 
to the existing circumstances of the household. He delighted 
to address Jehovah through Christ, as his God, by covenant; 
and hence he derived some of those powerful arguments which 
he pleaded in intercession for his children, and one strong ground 
of hope that God would convert and save them. 

To obtain any adequate conception of the manner in which 
God was acknowledged and honored in his habitation, recourse 
must be had, as in other instances, to his own language: — 

''April, 1816. 
''Another precious passage is that in Zechariah, 'In that 



day shall there be upon the bells of the horses, Holiness to the 
Lord,' vfec. I preached on it lately, and, among other things, 
observed, that, in that day, every action would be performed as 
the most solemn religious duties are now ; every house and place 
would be a temple; everyday like a Sabbath; and evey meal 
like the Lord's supper. We have since been trying to have the 
prophecy fulfilled at our house; and, though we succeed miser- 
ably enough, yet the bare attempt has given us a happiness 
unknown before. One thing, which has been greatly blessed to 
us, is, having family prayer at noon, as well as morning and 
evening. It showed us how far we often get from God during 
the day, even when we begin and close it with him. In some 
families, this would be impossible ; and then half an hour spent 
alone would answer the purpose as well. I find that it requires 
almost constant rubbing and chafing to make the blood circulate 
m such frozen souls as ours ; and, after all, it avails nothing, if 
the Sun of Righteousness does not shine. " 

Dr. Payson was the father of eight children, two of whom, a 
son and a daughter, he followed to the grave. Six survive him, 
two daughters and four sons. 

Many persons were honored with a large share of Dr. Pay^ 
son's confidence ; but it is very doubtful whether he ever pour- 
ed out all of the feelings of his bosom to any beyond his 
nearest relations, if, indeed, he did to any besides his God. It 
required a reach of sympathy beyond what man is ordinarily 



348 MEMOIR OF 

capable of exercising, to enter deeply into his experience. He 
could not bring himself to tell of the peculiar agonies or rap- 
lures, which by turns tortured and blessed him, to any heart 
that could not send back a response. And where, almost, could 
that heart be found 7 And in this, the writer, while tracing his 
religious experience, has often thought he v/as justified by the 
example of Paul, after his rapture. Still, while there were 
secrets in his own bosom of too sacred a character to be made 
common by participation, his intercourse with his flock, indi- 
vidually, was that of a highly endearing, tender, and confiden- 
tial friendship. "If there were ever a minister" — these arc 
his own words — " blessed with a kind and faithful people, I 
am. If I were not so often sick, I should be too happy. When 
I come into my congregation, I feel as a father, surrounded by 
his children. I do not feel as though there were an ill disposed 
person among them. I can throw off" my armor without fearing 
that an enemy is there with a dagger ready to stab me." Their 
affection was most fully and faithfully reciprocated. Never did 
a minister more ardently love his charge, or enter with more 
facility into all their interests and feelings. When any of them 
were visited with calamity, he was among the very first to ten- 
der his sympathy; and always left them "lightened." In lis- 
tening to his conversation and prayers, the burden would often 
fall off*. 

" Beside the bed where parting life was laid, 
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed," 

he was at once faithful and tender ; and if 

" Despair and anguish fled the sti-ugglmg soul," 

it was because it had been pointed to the " smitten Rock," to 
the " Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world." 

" Comfort came down, the trembling wi-etch to raise. 
And liis last faltermg accents whispered praise." 

He was eminently susceptible of gratitude. A favor, which 
would be received with a very summary acknowledgement by 
many, would make his " shoulders ache under the load of obli- 
gation that was laid upon them." And if he "bore it pretty 
well, it was because nothing renders a man so careless about 
increasing his debts, as the consciousness that he shall never be 
able to pay." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 349 

Economy was a very noticeable feature in his character. It 
was a principle with him to spend nothing merely for ornament. 
The money which came into his possession he regarded as a 
talent for which he was accountable ; and so scrupulous was he, 
as to the disposition Avhich he made of it, that he is thought to 
Iiave regarded some things as forbidden luxuries, which would 
have been for his welfare. In his furniture, in his apparel, and 
that of his household, and in the provisions of his table, there 
was a plainness and simplicity well becoming a man professing 
and teaching godliness. Connected with this quality was a 
noble generosity of soul. He did not save to hoard, but to bless 
others. He did not love money for its own sake ; and so obvi- 
ous to all was his disinterestedness, that, so far as is known, he 
never fell under the charge or even the suspicion of being ava- 
ricious. If the temporal or spiritual necessities of his fellow 
creatures demanded relief, his money was as free for their use 
as a cup of cold water. He had declined purchasing an article 
of convenience for the family one morning, because, as it was 
not absolutely necessary, he thought they could not afford it. 
The same day he gave ten dollars to a woman in reduced cir- 
cumstances, who called at his house. At another time, he said 
to his church, who had handed in their contribution of fifty or 
sixty dollars, for foreign missions — " I am ashamed to send so 
small a sum, and shall forward one hundred dollars, as your 
contribution ; and you may act your pleasure about indemnify- 
ing me." These are only instances out of a multitude ; the 
same liberality characterized him as long as he lived. He con- 
tinued to give, till after he was unable to put his name to a 
subscription paper. It was with reluctance that he received 
from his people what they were forward to give as a compensa- 
tion for his services ; and for two successive years, he actually 
relinquished four hundred dollars. He never would have pos- 
sessed a dwelling-house in fee, if his people had waited for his 
consent. Acting according to the impulse of their own liberali- 
ty, and their convictions of what was due to him, in return for 
the sums which he had relinquished, they purchased and secur- 
ed to him by deed, a house more spacious than he would have 
chosen ; and this was all his property, beyond actual expendi- 
tures, which he did not give away. 

In tliis connexion a document will be introduced, containing 



3M 



MEMOIR OF 



a request, such as it would be equally honorable to ministers 
and people, if there were more frequent occasion for : — 

»* To the members of tlie Second Parish in Portland, in parish meeting as- 
sembled : — 

" Gentlemen: — It is a circumstance which claims my thank- 
ful acknowledgements, and of which I hope ever to retain a 
grateful recollection, that, while many ministers are constramed 
to ask. and, perhaps, ask in vain, for an increase of salary, the 
only request relative to a support, which I have ever had occa- 
sion to present to you, is, that my salary may be diminished. 
Such a request, you will recollect, I made, through the medium 
of one of the parish, at your last annual meeting ; but your 
kindness and liberality prevented you from complying with it. 
I now repeat that request in writing. The salary which you 
voted me at the time of my settlement, is amply sufficient for 
my support ; and more than this I am unwilling to receive ; for 
1 can never consent to acquire wealth by preaching the gospel 
of Christ. Permit me, then, respectfully, but earnestly, to re- 
quest that addition which you have so generously made to my 
salary, the last two years, may be discontinued. 

'' That the Master whom I serve may repay all your kindness 
to his servant, is the first Avish and most earnest prayer of 
"Your deeply indebted and grateful pastor, 

" Edward Payson. 

*• Portland, April 27, 1821." 

In the same spirit, after his last sickness had made such in- 
roads upon his strength, as almost wholly to disqualify him for 
exertion, he dictated the following communication : — 

"April 27, 1827. 

" To the members of the Second Congregational Church in Portland, in 
! parish meeting assembled : — 

" Brethren and friends : — Of the kindness and generosity 
with which you have invariably treated me, ever since I became 
your pastor, and especially since the commencement of my 
present indisposition, I am deeply sensible. Nor have you giv- 
en me the smallest reason to suppose, that your kindness is 



EDWARD PAYSON. 351 

exhausted, or even diminished. But I must not allow myself to 
encroach upon it too far. It is my indispensible duty to prefer 
your spiritual welfare to every personal consideration. If I 
have reason to believe that your religious interests would be 
promoted by a dissolution of the connexion between us, it is in- 
cumbent on me to request, that it may be dissolved ; and to 
retire from a station, the duties of which I am no longer able to 
perform. And have I not reason to believe that such is the 
fact? With the present state of my health you are sufficiently 
acquainted. It has already occasioned you much trouble and 
expense. You have waited a reasonable time for its restora- 
tion ; and the probability that it will ever be restored, is by no 
means great. It is highly important that such a society as this 
should enjoy the services of a minister who possesses a vigor- 
ous constitution, firm health, and ministerial qualifications of 
the first order ; and the salary which it gives entitles it to ex- 
pect, and will enable it to command, the services of such a 
minister. In view of these circumstances, I feel a prevailing 
persuasion, that it is my duty to propose a dissolution of the 
connexion between us, and to request you to unite with me in 
calling a council for the purpose of dissolving it. Such a propo- 
sition and request I now submit to you. 

" That on this and every other occasion you may be guided 
by that wisdom which is from above, and led to the adoption of 
such measures as shall be most conducive to the glory of God, 
and your own best interests, is the prayer of 

" Your affectionate friend and pastor, 

" Edward Payson." 

This request was received and treated in a manner most 
honorable to the parish. Their reply to it expressed the most 
*' deep and affectionate sympathy with their much esteemed 
pastor, and a sense of their high obligations for the very valu- 
able services, which a kind Providence had permitted and 
enabled him to perform for a long course of years ; and appre- 
ciating his present services, much as they were interrupted and 
curtailed by sickness, of paramount value and interest to them_, 
they did respectfully solicit that he would be pleased to with- 
draw his request ; and thus permit them to hope, that, whatev- 
er might be the state of his health in future, they should enjoy 



352 MEMOIR OF 

the benefit of his counsel and prayers, till he was called to 
receive the reward prepared for the faithful servants of Christ." 
With these wishes, so aifectionately and gratefully expressed, 
he complied ; and continued, in such ways as he could, to ad- 
vance their spiritual interests, till removed by the undoubted 
will of God. 

But there are, in the lives of eminently faithful ministers, 
events of another character, which it is painful to narrate, and 
yet which ought not to be passed over in silence. The hostiUty 
which they sometimes experience, illustrates the depravity of 
mankind, and confirms the authority of Scripture by evincing 
the truth of the declaration, — " If any man will live godly in 
Christ Jesus, he shall suffer persecution." We need not be 
surprised, therefore, that Dr. Payson should have been wicked- 
ly assailed in his character, as a preacher of a kindred spirit 
was assailed before him. It is related of Richard Baxter, that 
when he was shaking the strong holds of error and iniquity at 
Kidderminster, a drunken slanderer reported concerning him, 
that he had been seen under a tree with a profligate woman ; 
and thus he was made " the song of the drunkards." But the 
defamer, being brought into court, was obliged to explain, that 
he had only seen Mr. Baxter, on a rainy day, on horseback, 
under an oak, which grew in a hedge, while a woman was 
standing for shelter on the other side of the hedge. A still 
heavier charge had been brought against one of his predecessors 
at Kidderminster, the Rev. John Cross. A wicked woman had 
been hired to bring the charge ; but Mr. Cross, at her examina- 
tion, placed himself among the magistrates, dressed as they 
were ; and she was asked, if one of them was the man, she 
looked at them, and said, No ; and thus her malice was de- 
feated. 

A wicked woman once brought against Dr. Payson an accu- 
sation, under circumstances which seemed to render it impossi- 
ble that he should escape. She was in the same packet, in 
which, many months before, he had gone to Boston. For a 
time, it seemed almost certain that his character would be 
ruined. He was cut off from all resource, except the throne 
of grace. He felt that his only hope was in God ; and to him 
he addressed his fervent prayer. He was heard by the Defend- 
er of the innocent. A " compunctious visiting " induced the 



EDWARD PAY SON. 353 

wretched woman to confess that the whole was a malicious 
slander. 

He was such " a terror to evil doers," that they seemed bent 
on destroying his reputation; and multiplied their malicious 
slanders, till they ceased to gain any credence even with the 
vilest. '^ It can't be true," said an opposer, respecting a base 
calumny of Dr. Payson. "No," said another; "but I would 

give dollars, if it were." When these cruel and malicious 

designs upon his character proved abortive, their enmity mani- 
fested itself in other forms. He once alludes to this opposition 
in his letters. It was in a year eminently distinguished by 
God's blessing on his labors : — 

" July 4, 1816. 
'• Enemies rage most terribly. You have probably 



seen in the papers an account of the attempt to burn our meet- 
ing-house. We have not discovered the author ; but there is no 

doubt that are at the bottom of it. It was little less 

than a miracle that the house was not burnt, with many others. 
Never, since I have been here, has the enmity of the heart been 
permitted to rage as it does now. Every one, except my own 
people, seems ready to curse me ; and I am weary of living in 
continual strife." 

The good man at length found rest from this strife. He 
came out of every trial untarnished — yea, the brighter for the 
ordeal. No charge could be sustained against him, but such as 
was urged against the prophet in Babylon ; and the ultimate 
issue was not, perhaps, essentially different. It was increased 
respect for him, and veneration for his God. 

VOL. L 45 



CHAPTER XIX. 



Further particulars relating to his personal history, and religious exercises, 
in connexion with his pastoral labors and their results. 



It was not thought desirable to interrupt a description of the 
"pastor in action," by frequent references to dates; or to pay 
any special regard to chronological order in a rehearsal of scenes 
and employments, which were more or less common to every 
year of his ministry. In this chapter, that order is resumed for 
the purpose of continuing the history of his rehgious experience 
through the various occurrences and vicissitudes of his life. 
The particulars will be given almost entirely in his own lan- 
guage, and in insulated extracts, which will be found, however, 
to possess the principal advantages of a connected narrative, 
beside several others, which no second-hand statements could 
secure. They were sketched at the time, and have the vivid- 
ness of first impressions in view of truths and facts as they 
were successively brought under notice, while the circumstances 
in which they were penned are a sufficient guarantee of their 
accuracy. The articles of intelligence and modes of elucidating 
and enforcing truth, which are interspersed, will enhance their 
value ; while they will enable the reader to view the subject of 
this Memoir in a greater variety of attitudes, and to learn his 
exercises and feelings in numerous circumstances; in prosper- 
ity, and under the rod ; when borne along on the full tide of 
success, and when thwarted at every step ; when religion was 
triumphant, and when "the ways of Zion mourned." 

"Portland, June 14, 1813. 
" My dear mother: — We arrived here last Friday, in safety, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 355 

and found every thing had been preserved by our merciful 
Protector. We very soon had resison to acknowledge how much 
his protection is superior to ours ; for, the very night after our 
return, our garden was laid waste. 

" For a few days after my return, I was exceedingly unwell, 
and there seemed less prospect of my continuing in the ministry 
than ever. In addition, I was more severely exercised with 
spiritual trials than I have been for two years past ; so that the 
five days succeeding my return were, perhaps, as dark as any 
five days that I ever experienced. Bat now, blessed be God, 
the scene has wonderfully changed. For three days, I have 
felt something more like health than I have enjoyed for years ; 
something of that spring and elasticity of spirit, which used to 
render life tolerable, and exertion pleasant. How long it will 
continue, I know not. It seems too good to last. I see, how- 
ever, already, that if the burden of sickness is to be removed, 
some other burden, perhaps a worse one, must be imposed in its 
place. I am ready to run wild with the pleasure of not feeling 
pain ; though, even now, I am not altogether free from it. If 
my health should be restored, I shall consider it as little less 
than a miracle ; and shall feel as if your deafness may be remo- 
ved. Indeed I think it will strengthen my faith as much as it 
will my body. It will also remove some spiritual difficulties 
and doubts, which have been a terrible hinderance to me in my 
race, and given unbelief more advantage over me than all other 
things united. But how I ramble ! 

" We have little encouraging of a religious nature, though the 
church are, I believe, much engaged. They ought to be ; for I 
find that ' Portland Christians' have, at least, a name to live at 
the westward ; a better name, I fear, than they will ere long 
deserve, even if they merit it now." 

"Sept. 12, 1814. 

" I engaged to go on a mission, if my people would 

consent ; but they will not hear of it. The church would con- 
sent, but the parish will not. You will learn from the news- 
papers that we are in a state of alarm here, or I should say 
nothing of it. Ever since our return, the street has been filled 
with wagons, &c., carrying goods out of town, and the alarm 
continues and increases. We had hoped to have a quiet Sabbath 
yesterday ; but, in the morning, the chairman of the committee 



3$6 MEMOIR OF 

of public safety called and informed me, that the committee had 
issued a handbill, requiring all the male citizens to work, 
through the day, on the fortifications, and stating that the usual 
religious services of the day must be dispensed with. With this 
order our church absolutely refused to comply, and we had 
divine service both parts of the day, as usual, and a considera- 
bly large congregation. This morning, all is bustle and confu- 
sion through the town. We have sent a few things to Gorham ; 
and, in case of an attack, we can pack into the chrlse and fol- 
low. You have no reason to entertain the smallest fears for our 
personal safety. In ten minutes after an alarm is given, wo 
can be safe out of town. The church seem to feel in some 
measure as I could wish. Strong confidence in God, mingled 
Avith a deep sense of ill-desert, and submission to his will, is 
displayed by them. They have a prayer meeting every 
evening ; and, next Thursday, if circumstances permit, we are 
to have a fast. At our house, all is still and quiet. We hear 
little of the noise, and have slept imdisturbed every night till 
the last. I cannot think we are in much danger. Not that 
great dependence is to be placed in our means of defence ; but 
I cannot think God means to destroy this place. We needed 
something to rouse us, and to remind us that we were engaged 
in war, and to excite us to pray for the removal of God's judg- 
ments ; and this effect the alarm has, I trust, produced. It tends 
powerfully to wean us from the world ; so that, thus far, it has 
been a mercy." 

''Nov. 14, 1814. 

•* " We are going on as v/ell as can be expected. L. is 

well ; little L. better than for a year past ; my own health 
slowly, but gradually, improving. Our souls, too, I hope, are 
not quite so far from prospering and being in health as they 
have been; the church are reviving, and there are many hope- 
ful appearances in the parish. But the best of all is, that we 
seem to be waking up in this part of the country, as well as in 
others, to the state of public morals. Delegates from nineteen 
towns in this vicinity met in this town last week, and adopted 
a number of measures to secure the proper observance of the 
Sabbath. A similar meeting for the county of Lincoln is to be 
held this week at Wiscasset. These things, and others of a 
similar nature, of which I hear abroad, almost lead me to cry, 



EDWARD PAYSON. 357 

with old Simeon — ' Let thy servant depart in peace, for mine 
eyes have seen thy salvation !' We shall yet see peace upon 
our Israel : and I have very little doubt, that, after the war ceas- 
es, we shall have greater revivals through the land than we 
have ever yet seen. It was harder to do what has been done, 
both in the world and among us, than to do what remains. 
The wheel is now in motion, and will be kept so with compar- 
ative ease. It is a glorious day to live in ! So much to be 
done ; so much to be prayed for ; so much to be seen. I was 
wrong in saying, I wished to depart in peace. I wish to stay, 
and see, and do a little more. I would not now exchange a 
place in the church below, even for a place in heaven. The 
longer our time of labor is, the better. There will be time 
enough for rest. 

" Dr. died last week. I saw him repeatedly during 

his illness ; but not a word of a religious nature did he utter; 
and, I am told, he said as little to others. He was a minister 
upv/ards of fifty years. What a meeting it must be, when a 
pastor meets all who have died under his ministry, during so 
many years ; especially, if he has never faithfully warned 
them ! 

" Our people feel the consequences of the war very much. 
I am astonished to see how well they continue to pay my salary ; 
and still more, to see how liberally they give to every proper 
object. Their deep poverty serves to set off the riches of their 
liberality. If they were like many congregations, I should soon 
be turned out. Many, however, have moved away, on account 
of the war ; and if it continues, the rest must follow. However, 
we serve a good Master ; and while he has work for us to do, 
he will feed us. I rejoice to learn, that you find ' the joy of the 
Lord your strength.' It is strength indeed. I hope my father 
finds as much reason to rejoice in the progress of reformation in 
New Hampshire, as we do here." 

" June 2, 1815. 

" I shall not be able to visit Rindge this summer. 



Journeying does me so little good, and I have been absent so 
long that I shall not dare to think of it at present. Were it 
possible, I would come about the time of the ordination of the 
missionaries, at Newbury port, to which our church is invited ; 
but I fear it will not be. 



358 MEMOIR OF 

" I am sorry for poor ; but my sorrow is mitigated, if 

not removed, by reflecting, that if he is a Christian, all things 
are working for his good ; and if he is not, an education will do 
him more harm than good. I have grown quite hard hearted, 
as it respects the trials of Christians. I scarcely pity them at 
all, while under the rod, though I am sorry we all need it so 
much. However, I sympathize with you, my dear mother, in 
your want of hearing. It is a grievous trial ; and if, as you 
intimate, frequent letters would in any degree mitigate it, I will 
strive to write oftener. I trust our revival has not ceased ; 
though it will not, I fear, prove so extensive as I at first hoped." 

"Sept. 7. 1815. 
" Do not feel anxious about me. I am, you know, iu 



good hands — in better hands than yours ; and, when you con- 
sider how good God has been to me, you can have no reason to 
fear that he will deal with me otherwise than well. 

" I have little to write respecting our situation in a religious 
view, that is encouraging ; but things look promising in many 
other places at a distance. You have heard of the revivals at 
Litchfield and New Haven. An account of these revivals read 
in Rowley, has occasioned the commencement of a similar work 
there, which promises to become extensive. There is also con- 
siderable attention among the students in Academy ; and 

a letter, which I have just received from a gentleman in Balti- 
more, informs me that there is a revival in an academy in that 
vicinity, and in two or three other places. It certainly appears 
more and more probable, that God is about to work wonders in 
most of our seminaries of learning; and, if so, who can calcu- 
late the blessed eflects which will be the result 7 

" The revolution in Dartmouth College makes a great noise 
here. Losing Mr. Brown will be a grievous blow to me. I 
think the trustees could hardly have made a better choice.'^ 

On perusing the following, itis difiicult to repress a wish that 
the writer had been under the necessity of " fitting up a house" 
every year : — 

"Portland, Nov. 1, 1815. 

"My dear mother: — I fear you will think me very negligent 
in delaying so long to answer your letter ; but I have an excuse 
ready. We have been moving, and repairing our house, and I 



EDWARD PAYSON. 359 

have been almost incessantly engaged, night and day. We have 
had half a score of workmen in the house, and I have been 
obliged to superintend and work with them ; and this, in addi- 
tion to parochial duties, has so hurried me, that I have scarcely 
had time to eat. You will be glad to hear that my cares and labors 
have had a very beneficial efiect, with respect to my health, so 
that I have gained more in fourteen days than in as many months 
previous. I have also enjoyed a much higher degree of spirit- 
ual health than usual, and have had many special mercies, both 
of a temporal and religious nature ; so that I have seldom passed 
six happier weeks than the last. Our house proves much more 
convenient than we expected, and Ave have seen much of the 
wisdom and goodness of God in bringing us into it. It is the 
same house in which I formerly boarded when preceptor — in 
which I spent some months in folly and sin, and in which I 
received the news of Charles's death, and began to turn my 
attention to religion. These circumstances give it an interest 
of a peculiar kind, and furnish matter for many humbling, 
many mournful, and not a few thankful and profitable reflections. 
O what a Master do I serve! I have known nothing, felt noth- 
ing, all my days, even in comparison with what I now see in 
him. Never was preaching such sweet work as it is now. Never 
did the world seem such a nothing. Never did heaven appear 
so near, so sweet, so overwhelmingly glorious. . . . God's prom- 
ises appear so strong, so solid, so real, so substantial, — more so 
than the rocks and everlasting hills; and his perfections, — what 
shall I say of them 7 When I think of one, I wish to dwell 
upon it forever; but another, and another, equally glorious, 
claims a share of admiration; and, when I begin to praise, I 
wish never to cease, but have it the commencement of that song 
which will never end. Very often have I felt as if I could that 
moment throw off" the body without staying to ' first go and bid 
them farewell that are at home in my house. ' Let who will be 
rich, or admired, or prosperous ; it is enough for me that there 
is such a God as Jehovah, such a Saviour as Jesus, and that 
they are infinitely and unchangeably glorious and happy." 

The year 1816 was the most remarkably distinguished for the 
effusions of the Holy Spirit on his people, of any year of his 
ministry, with the exception of that in which his happy spirit 



360 MEMOIR OF 

took its flight, when he preached so much from the bed of death. 
This fact the reader will regard as a striking commentary on 
the subjoined extracts from his diary : — 

"Dec. 16. Since the last date, I have passed through a greater 
variety of scenes and circumstances than in almost any period 
of equal length in my whole life, and have experienced severer 
sufferings, conflicts, and disappointments. Some time in Feb- 
ruary, I began to hope for a revival ; and, after much prayer for 
direction, and, as I thought, with confidence in God, I took some 
extraordinary, and perhaps imprudent,* measures to hasten it. 
But the event did not answer my expectations at all; and in 
consequence, I was thrown into a most violent conunotion, and 
was tempted to think God unkind and unfaithful. For some 
weeks, T could not think of my disappointment with submission 
There were many aggravating circumstances attending it, which 
rendered it incomparably the severest disappointment, and, of 
course, the most trying temptation, I had ever met with. It 
injured my health to such a degree, that I was obliged to spend 
the summer in journeying, to recover my health. This, how- 
ever, did not avail, and I returned worse than I went away, 
and plunged in the depths of discouragement. Was obliged, 
sorely against my will, to give up my evening lectures, and to 
preach old sermons. After awhile, however, my health began 
to return, though very slowly. God was pleased to revisit me, 
and to raise me up out of the horrible pit and miry clay, in which 
I had so long lain ; and my gratitude for this mercy far exceed- 
ed all I felt at my first conversion. Sin never appeared so odious, 
nor Christ so precious, before. Soon after this, my hopes of a 
revival began to return. About a month since, very favorable 
appearances were seen, and my endeavors to rouse the church 
seemed to be remarkably blessed. My whole soul was gradually 
wrought up to the highest pitch of eager expectation and desire; 
I had great assistance in observing a day of fasting and prayer; 
the annual thanksgiving was blessed in a very remarkable and 
surprising manner, both to myself and the church. From these 
and many other circumstances, I was led to expect, very con- 
fidently, that the next Sabbath, which was our communion, 

* See Chapter XIV. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 361 

would be a glorious day, and that Christ would then come to 
convert the church a second time, and prepare them for a great 
revival. I had great freedom, in prayer, both on Saturday night 
and Sabbath morning; and, after resigning, professedly, the 
whole matter to God, and telling him that, if he should disap- 
point us, it would be all right, I went to meeting. But what a 
disappointment awaited me! I was more straitened than for a 
year before; it was a very dull dsLj, both to myself and the 
church; all my hopes seemed dashed to the ground at once, and 
I returned home in an agony not to be described. Instead of 
vanquishing Satan, I was completely foiled and led captive by 
him; all my hopes of a revival seemed blasted, and I expected 
nothing but a repetition of the same conflicts and sufierings 
which I had endured after my disappointment last spring, and 
which I dreaded a thousand times worse than death. Hence 
my mind was exceedingly imbittered. But, though the storm 
was sudden and violent, it was short. My insulted, abused Mas- 
ter pitied and prayed for me, that my faith might not fail; and 
therefore, after Satan had been permitted to sift me as wheat, I 
was delivered out of his power ; and. strange as it even now 
appears to me, repentance and pardon were given me, and I was 
taken, with greater kindness than ever, to the bosom of that 
Saviour whom I had so insulted. Nor was this all ; the trial 
was beneficial to me. It showed me the selfishness of my 
prayers for a revival, and my self-deception in thinking I was 
willing to be disappointed, if God pleased. It convinced me 
that I was not yet prepared for such a blessing, and that much 
more wisdom and grace were necessary to enable me to conduct 
a revival properly, than I have ever imagined before. On the 
whole, though the past year has been one of peculiar trial and 
suffering, I have reason to hope it has not been unprofitable, and 
that I have not suffered so many things altogether in vain. I 
have seen more of myself and of Christ than I ever saw before ; 
and can, at times, feel more of the frame described in Ezekiel 
xvi. 63, than I ever expected to feel a year since. The gospel 
way of salvation appears much more glorious and precious, and 
sin more hateful. I can see, supposing a revival is to come, 
that it was a mercy to have it so long delayed. My hopes, that 
it will yet come, are perhaps as strong as ever, but my mind is 
on the rack of suspense, and I can scarcely support the conflict 
VOL. I. 46 



362 MEMOIR OP 

of mingled anxieties, desires and expectations. Meanwhile, 
appearances are every week more favorable, the heavens ai*^ 
covered with clouds, and some drops have already fallen. Such 
are the circumstances in which I commence the ninth year of 
my ministry; and surely never did my situation call more loudly 
for fasting and prayer than now. 

"In the preceding sketch of the past year, I have said little of 
my own wickedness, or of God's goodness; for, indeed, I know 
not what to say. The simple statements Avhich 1 have made of 
facts, speak more loudly in favor of Christ, and against myself, 
than any thing else can do. I used to think that repentance 
and confession bore some small proportion to my sins ; but now 
there seems to be no more proportion between them than between 
finite and infinite. I can see that I once trusted much to my 
repentance; but now my repentance seems one of my worst 
sins, on account of its exceeding imperfection. 

" For an hour or two, I have enjoyed as much assistance as I 
usually do on such occasions; but 1 see more and more how 
exceedingly little there is of spirituality in my best affections. 
Imagination, natural affections, and self-love, compose by much 
the largest part of my experiences. Indeed, I can scarcely dis- 
cover any thing else. It is like a fire just kindled ; much smoke, 
some blaze, but little heat. I have been praying, more than I 
ever did before, for more spiritual affection and clearer views; 
but as yet my gracious God does not answer my request. But 
he knows best, and with him I can leave it. 

''Was favored, while reading Owen on the Hebrews, with 
new and unusually clear views of many things respecting our 
Saviour's sufferings, which filled me with wonder and delight. 
O, how little have I known, how little do I still know, of the 
great mystery of godliness! In the evening, hoped I felt some- 
thing of what the apostle calls travailing in birth for souls. I 
was in such a state of mind as I cannot well describe, but it 
seemed to be almost insupportable. 

" Dec. 17. Had a most sweet, refreshing season in prayei 
last night. The unsearchable riches seemed opened to me, to 
take as much as I pleased. Had great liberty in praying for a 
revival; and could scarcely give over the blessed work, though 
much exhausted. This morning, was in the same frame. Wa3 
especially affected and dehghted with the proof of love which 



EDWARD PAY SON. 363 

he required from Peter, 'Feed my slieep.' Prayed that I might 
be enabled to feed them this day. Went to the house of God 
with more of such a frame as I wislied than usual. I have 
hitherto had no liberty in praying for a revival in public. How- 
ever much I might feel at home, it was taken from me as soon 
as I entered the meeting-house. But to-day my fetters were 
taken off. I could pray for nothing but a revival. 

" Dec. is. Felt unusually oppressed with a sense of the 
wisdom and grace necessary to conduct a revival ; but was en- 
abled to trust in God to supply my wants. Spent the evening 
with Christian friends. Prayed for a blessing on the visit, and 
found it a sweet season. After my return, had a most refresh- 
ing and delightful season in prayer. Had no longer the least 
doubt of a revival, and my joy was unspeakable. Continued 
sweetly meditating and praying, till I fell asleep. 

" Dec. 19. New joys, new praises. Had a most ravishing 1 
view of Christ this morning, as coming at a distance in the 
chariot of his salvation. In an instant he was with me, and 
around me ; and I could only cry, Welcome ! welcome ! a 
thousand times welcome to my disconsolate heart, and to thy 
widowed church ! O, joy unspeakable and full of glory ! ] 
while seeing him not, I feel and believe his presence. Spent 
the evening with the church, after much prayer, both alone and 
with others, that Christ would meet and bless us. AVent to 
meeting trembling, and my fears Avere realized. I was entirely 
deserted, had nothing to say, and was obliged to leave them ab- 
ruptly. They sat stupid awhile, after I left them, and then 
separated. This was a sore trial. Impatience and self-will 
struggled hard for leave to say something against Christ ; but I 
Avas enabled to flee to the throne of grace, and found relief. 
One thing is certain. I have no direct promise that there shall 
be a revival ; but I have a thousand direct, positive assurances 
that Christ is faithful, and wise, and kind. This, therefore, 
faith will believe, whatever becomes of my hopes and wishes ; 
and it is evidently absurd to profess to trust in God for what he 
has not expressly promised, while I do not believe his positive 
assurances. 

'*Dec. 24. Enjoyed great nearness to Christ in family v 
prayer. Seemed to feel a perfect union with him, and to love 
with a most intense love, every thing that is dear to him. 



364 M E M I R F 

Christians seemed inexpressibly dear to me, and I loved to pray 
for them as for myself But, O, where have I been ? and what 
have I been doing all my days ? How terribly blind and igno- 
rant of religion have I been ! and now I know nothing, feel 
nothing as I ought. Saw that there is incomparably more to be 
known and felt in religion than I ever thought of before. What 
a pity, that I have lost so many of the best years of my life in 
contented ignorance ; and what would I not give for the years 1 
have lost. I can never be humbled sufficiently for my indo- 
lence. As it respects a revival I feel easy. My anxiety has 
subsided into a settled calm, arising from a full persuasion 
that Christ will come and save us. 

''Dec. 30. Was greatly assisted in praying for a revival, 
and felt almost a full assurance that it would be granted. Felt 
sweetly melted, and almost overpoAvered with a sense of God's 
sovereign and unmerited love. Could not forbear saying to 
him, that he ought not to save such a guilty creature ; or at 
least, ought not to employ me, and bless my labors ; but he 
seemed to reply, with great power and majesty, ' I will have 
mercy on whom I will have mercy.' Could not but submit, 
that it should be so. Never did the sovereignty of God appear 
so sweet as then. Spent part of the evening in religious con- 
versation with my domestics. 

'' Jan. 4, 1816. Preached the evening lecture without much 
sensible assistance. After meeting, one of the church informed 
me, that in the afternoon a man, (who had formerly been one 
of the first merchants in the town,) once a professor, but who 
has been for many years an apostate, and bitter enemy to relig- 
ion, came to him apparently much distressed respecting his sal- 
vation; and that the same man was at lecture. This good 
news filled us with joy and triumph, so that all doubts of a re- 
vival seemed removed. O, I wanted, even then, to begin my 
eternal song ; and excess of happiness became almost painful. 
Could scarcely sleep for joy, though much fatigued. 

'' Jan. 5. Had similar views and feelings this morning, but 
less vivid. Took a review of God's dealings with me, and of 
my own exercises respecting the revival. Saw infinite wisdom 
and goodness in every thing that God has done, and could not 
but admire and praise. As to my feelings, though they seemed 
little better than a mass of pride, and selfishness, and impa- 



EDWARD PAY SON. 365 

tielice, yet I could not but see that there was some real faith 
under all, which God had accepted. Afterwards, however, re- 
llecting on the feelings of papists towards their saints, and pa- 
gans towards their idols, I was led to doubt whether I had 
exercised any real faith at all. Attended a fast. Endeavored 
to convince the church how polluted the conference room must 
be in the sight of God, in consequence of the sins which had 
been committed there. Then made a confession of them, and 
prayed that it might be cleansed. Then did the same with re- 
spect to our closets, and houses, and afterwards the house of 
God, and the communion table. Then read and expoimded 
the new covenant, and showed what was meant by taking hold 
of it. Fniished by imploring all the blessings of this covenant 
on the church, and praying for a revival. 

" Jan. 7. Sabbath. Had no freedom either in prayer or 
preaching, and the congregation appeared uncommonly stupid. 
Concluded that there was to be no revival under me. Was ex- 
ceedingly distressed, but felt no disposition to murmur, or be 
impatient. Withdrew to my chamber, to weep and pray. It 
seemed clear, that I was the great obstacle to a revival. I have 
not ' rendered again according to the benefit done unto me, but 
my heart has been lifted up ; therefore is there wrath upon my 
people.' Threw myself in the dust at God's feet. Derived 
some comfort from often repeating those words, ' I will be gra- 
cious to whom I will be gracious.' It seemed sweet, as well as 
reasonable, that God should be a sovereign, and do what he will 
with his own." 

" March 1, 1816. 

'' Could I, my dear mother, tell you all the good news I 

Iiave so long been waiting for, it would be some comfort ; but I 
can say but little compared with what I hoped to be able to say 
before this time ; nor can I yet determine how it will go with 
us. We have about eighty inquirers, and several, I hope, are 
converted ; but this is nothing to what we expected. However, 
we would be thankful for a drop, if we cannot have a shower. 
It has been a trying season with me this winter. While pursu- 
ing the revival, it seemed as if I must die in the pursuit, and 
never overtake it." 



366 MEMOIR OF 



" April 1, 1816. 



■ " I am so worn down with constant cares and labors, 

that my affections seem to be all dried up, ' and I am withered 
like grass.' However, I hope you have received, ere this, a 
few lines, as a proof that I have not quite forgotten, or ceased 
to love my mother. 

" Our revival still lingers : it, however, increases slowly. I 
have conversed with about forty who entertain hopes, and with 
about sixty more who are inquiring. Twenty-three have join- 
ed the church since the year commenced. The work is evi- 
dently not over ; but whether it will prove general, is still 
doubtful. There is quite a revival at Bath, below us. Nearly 
two hundred have been awakened. In Philadelphia, seventy 
one were added to a single church at one time, a few weeks 
since. In New York and Baltimore, also, there are revivals. 
You have probably heard, that there have been revivals among 
the Hottentots. Two hundred were added to the church in one 
year, and ten Hottentot preachers ordained. There is much 
more good news of a similar nature. Surely we live in a good 
day, and I believe you will yet see good days in Rindge. Their 
liberality in raising father's salary, is a token for good ; and I 
rejoice in it more for that reason than for any other. Those 
who are most willing to pay for the gospel, are most likely to 
have it blessed to them. 

"We go on very happily in every respect. I have been 
favored with a long calm, or rather sunshine. Every thing is 
easy ; I am careful for nothing ; Christ is so precious and so 
\ near; my cup runneth over. Every day I expect a storm, but 
it does not come. Doubtless I have many bitter, trying scenes 
to pass through yet ; worse than any I have heretofore experi- 
enced. But I care not. He will carry me through. I wish to 
mention to you some passages, which have been peculiarly 
sweet of late. One is this : ' He caused them to be pitied of all 
them by whom they were carried away captive.' Scarcely any 
passage of Scripture seems to me so expressive of God's 
goodness to his people as this. After they had provoked him, 
till he banished them from the good land, still he pitied them, 
and made their enemies pity them. It sounds like David's lan- 
guage — 'Deal gently with the young man Absalom for my 
sake.' 



EDWARD PAYSON. 367 

" Another is the account of our Saviour's ascension, in the 
last chapter of Luke : ' And he lifted up his hands, and bless- 
ed them. And while he blessed them,' 6uC. Observe ' lohile he 
blessed,' &xj. The last thing he was ever seen to do on earth, 
was to bless his disciples. He went up, scattering blessmgs; 
and he has done nothing but bless them ever since." 

*' Sept. 19, 1816. 

" I do not wonder at all, my dear mother, at your discovering 
from my letters, the jaded, languid state of my mental faculties. 
They have long since lost all the elasticity which they ever 
possessed, and my mind is ' as dry as the remainder biscuit, 
after a voyage.' 

" On the whole, the past summer has been the happiest 

which I have enjoyed since I was settled. Were it not for the 
dreadfully depressing effects of ill health, I should be almost 
too happy. It seems to me, that no domestic troubles, not even 
the loss of wife and children, could disturb me much, might I 
enjoy such consolations as I have been favored with most of the 
time since the date of my last letter. Soon after that, the revi- 
val, which I feared was at an end, began again, and things now 
look as promising as ever. My meeting-house overflows, and 
some of the church are obliged to stay at home, on account of 
the impossibility of obtaining seats. I have, in the main, been 
favored with great liberty for me, both in the pulpit and out ; 
and it has very often seemed as if — could I only drop the body, 
I could continue, without a moment's pause, to praise and adore 
to all eternity. This goodness is perfectly astonishing and in- 
comprehensible. I am in a maze, whenever I think of it. 
Every day, for years, I have been expecting some dreadful 
judgments, reckoning, as Hezekiah did, that as a lion God 
would break all my bones, and, from day even to night, make 
an end of me 7 Now, and now, I have said to myself, it is 
coming. Now, God will cast me out of his vineyard. Now, 
he will lay me aside or withdraw his Spirit, and let me fall into 
some great sin. But, instead of the judgments which I expect- 
ed and deserve, he sends nothing but mercies ; such great mer- 
cies, too, that I absolutely stagger under them, and all my 
words are Swallowed up. 

" But, great as my reasons are to love God for his favors, me- 



368 MEMOIR OF 

thinks he is infinitely more precious on account of his perfec- 
tions. Never did he appear so inexpressibly glorious and lovely 
as he has for some weeks past. He is, indeed, all in all. I 
have nothing to fear, nothing to hope from creatures. They 
are all mere shadows and puppets. There is only one Being 
in the universe, and that Being is God ; may I add, He is my 
God. I long to go and see him in heaven. I long still more to 
stay and serve him on earth. Rather, I rejoice to be just where 
he pleases, and to be what he pleases. Never did selfishness 
and pride appear so horrid. Never did I see myself to be such 
a monster ; so totally dead to all wisdom and goodness. But I 
can point up, and say* — There is my righteousness, my wisdom, 
my all. In the hands of Christ I lie passive and helpless, and 
am astonished to see how he can work in me. He does all ; 
holds me up, carries me forward, works in me and by me; 
while I do nothing, and yet never worked faster in my life. To 
say all in a word — 'My soul folio weth hard after thee; thy 
right hand upholdeth me.' 

'' Our inquirers are about seventy. We are building a con- 
ference-house, to hold 500 people. Some of the church, who 
can ill afford it, give fifty dollars each towards it." 

'' December 9, 1816. 

"In a religious view, things remain very mucli as they have 
been. We have about fifty inquirers ; but they do not seem, 
except in a few instances, to be very deeply impressed, and their 
progress is slow. We have admitted seventy-two persons into 
the church during the present year. Our new conference-house 
has been finished some weeks; cost about twelve hundred dol- 
lars. At its dedication, and at a quarterly fast held in it the 
same week, we enjoyed the divine presence in a greater degree, 
I think, than we ever did before as a church. I would not have 
given a straw for the additional proof, which a visible appear- 
ance of Christ would have aflforded of his presence. And he 
has been wonderfully gracious to me ever since. It is several 
months since I have been disturbed with any of those dreadful 
conflicts, which for so many years rendered life bitterer than, 
wormwood and gall. 

" We have received intelligence of E's marriage. I can 
realize, more than I once could, what a severe trial it must be 



edWard payson. 369 

to you and my father, to have both daughters gone — almost 
like burying them. If father were not a minister, and thus 
fixed where he is, I should send him and you such an invita- 
tion as Joseph sent to Jacob, to come and let us nurse and 
nourish you, since you are left so much alone." 

" Dec. 16j 1817. This being the anniversary of my ordina- 
tion, determined to spend it in fasting and prayer. Had little 
courage to attempt it, on account of bodily infirmities, and 
repeated vain attempts; but God was gracious to me, and 
enabled me to go through with it. Had, for a long time, a 
melting, heart-broken frame at the feet of Christ, weeping 
aloud, and obtained, a full and sweet assurance of pardon. 
Never before enjoyed such a sense of his love, or felt so con- 
strained to love him, and every thing that belonged to him, 
especially his Word, which I could not forbear kissing, and 
pressmg to my bosom. Was perfectly willing to die, without 
leaving my chamber, if my work here were done and God saw 
best. 

''Dec. IB. Began to think, last night, that I have been sleep- 
ing all my days ; and, this morning, felt sure of it. I have 
been idling and sleeping, while my flock have been dropping 
into hell. How astonishingly blind have I been, and how 
imperceptible my religious progress ! Prayed for my people 
with more of a right spirit than perhaps ever before. After 
meeting, had, for a few moments, such a view of God as almost 
overwhelmed me. Could not have supported it long." 

'' Oct. 27, 1818. 

— " In addition to these favors, we have some reason to 

hope that Zion is travailing in birth with souls. After a long 
season, the preached word begins again to be blessed ; and sev- 
eral have, within a few days, been awakened. My health, too, 
which for several weeks was worse than ever, is now quite as 
good as usual ; and God has been so gracious to me in spiritual 
things, that 1 thought he was preparing me for L's death. 
Indeed, it may be so still ; but if so, his will be done. David's 
charge to his soul, ' wait thou only upon God,' has of late 
seemed peculiarly precious. Let him take all ; if he leaves us 
himself, we still have all and abound. I tell my dear parents oi 

VOL. 1. 47 



370 



MEMOIR OF 



these mercies, because I know they are in answer to your pray- 
ers ; and because I trust they will cause you to abound in 
thanksgiving in my behalf. 

" Since I wrote the above, I have seen three more newly awa- 
kened; and other circumstances appear encouraging. Truly 
my cup runs over with blessings. I can still scarcely help 
thinking, that God is preparing me for some severe trial ; but if 
he will grant me his presence, as he does now, no trial can seem 
severe. However, I desire to rejoice with trembling. I seem to 
know a little what is meant by fearing the Lord and his good- 
ness. There seems to be something awful and venerable even 
in the goodness of God, when displayed towards creatures so 
desperately wicked, so inexpressibly vile as we are. O, could I 
now drop the body, I could stand and cry to all eternity, with- 
out being weary — God is holy, God is just, God is good ; God 
is wise, and faithful, and true. Either of his perfections alone 
is sufficient to furnish matter for an eternal, unwearied song. 
How bright, how dazzling, is the pure, unsullied whiteness of 
his character ! and how black, how loathsome, do we appear in 
contrast with it ! Could I sing upon paper, I should ' break 
forth into singing ;' for, day and night I can do nothing but sing, 
^ Let the saints be joyful in glory ; let them sing aloud upon their 
beds ; for the Lord shall reign king for ever, and thy God, O 
Ziou. throughout all generations.' " 

''April 13, 1820. 
"I have lately been very much delighted with some account 
of the last years of Mr. Newton. Nothing that I have yet met 
with seems to come so near complete ripeness of Christian char- 
acter, as the views and feelings which he expresses in his daily 
conversation. He seems to have seen God continually in every 
thing, to have been wholly swallowed up in him, and to have 
regarded him as all in all. The whole creation seemed, as it 
were, to be annihilated in his view, and God to have taken its 
place. If a miracle had been Avrought before me, to prove the 
reality of religion, it could scarcely have produced conviction 
like that which resulted from seeing religion thus gloriously 
exemplified. After his faculties seemed to be almost extinct, so 
that he could not remember, in the afternoon, having preached 



EDWARD PAYSON. 371 

in the morning, faith and love and hope were as strong as ever. 
Indeed, I cannot conceive of nearer approaches to perfection in 
this world, than he seems to have made during the last years of 
his life. He says that God works in his people to will^ first ; 
and afterwards, to do ; and thinks that Christians will to do good 
many years before they actually do much. This is encoura- 
ging. I think God works in me to will ; but in doing, my pro- 
gress is small indeed." 

" May 17, 1821. 
" My dear mother : — ^111 news flies so fast, and becomes so 
much exaggerated in its progress, that I should not wonder if 
you were to hear a rumor that I am dying, if not dead. The 
truth is, I have been sick — perhaps dangerously so. About 
three months since, I began to be troubled with a slight cough. 
It gradually grew worse, and was attended with loss of appe- 
tite, pain in the chest, difficulty of breathing, daily accession of 
fever, and spitting of blood. It is nearly a month since I have 
been obliged to give up preaching, and have recourse to emetics, 
blistering, bleeding, &oc. By the blessing of God attending 
these means, I am now almost well again, and hope to be able 
soon to resume my labors. I am, however, still weak, and can- 
not write much ; but I was fearful you would hear that I am 
worse than I really am, and therefore thought it best to write a 
few lines." 

" June 8. This is a most melancholy day to me. It is the 
Sabbath on which we should have had the communion ; but we 
have no one to preach for us. My flock are scattered, and I can 
only look on and groan. My health is in such a state, that I 
can feel nothing but miisery. However, this blow seemed to 
touch me. I saw that it was just, though I can scarcely be said 
to hsLvefelt it. To-morrow I expect to sail for Charleston, with 
a view to the recovery of my health ; but I go with a heavy 
heart. There appears little prospect of its proving beneficial." 

"July 16. 
'* I am just returned from Charleston. My health is much 
improved. I had a very pleasant passage out ; but a most tedi- 
ous and unpleasant return. The captain who carried me out 
was as kind as possible. I hope he has his reward. He offer- 



372 MEMOIR OF 

ed to carry me to Europe, and bring me back, without a far- 
thing's expense. It would have been gratifying to see Old 
England ; but I could not spare the time." 

" July 16. O, how much better is God to me than my fears, 
and even than my hopes ! how ready to answer prayer ! This 
afternoon he has banished my fears and sorrows, strengthened 
my faith, revived my hopes, and encouraged me to go on. Had 
a precious season in visiting and praying with some of my peo- 
ple, and still more so in the evening. O, how wise and good is 
God ! Now I can see it was best that I should not be assisted 
in preaching yesterday ; for it drove me, in self-despair, to the 
throne of grace. Whereas, had I been assisted, I might have 
remained at a distance. And I desire to record it to the honor 
of God, and my own shame, that I never went to him in dis- 
tress, without finding almost immediate relief. 

" July 25. This day I am thirty-eight years old. I had inten- 
ded to make it a day of family thanksgiving, but my weakness 
prevented. Indeed, ill health is an obstacle continually in my 
way, almost wholly obstructing my usefulness and growth in 
grace. Half my time, I am so languid in body and mind, that 
I can do nothing ; and the other half, I am very far from being 
well. But God has hitherto graciously supported me, so that, 
though cast down. I am not yet destroyed. As to resolving that 
I will do better in future, I have no courage to do it. The loss 
of so many years withers my strength and courage, and dries 
up my spirits." 

"Aug. 6. 1821. 

" Since I wrote last there has been quite a change in me. 
Then, my health was better, but my mind sick. Now, my 
mind is comparatively at ease, but my health has sunk down 
nearly to its old standard. However, this state is vastly more 
comfortable than the former, arid I desire to be satisfied. I think, 
my dear mother, you may dismiss all anxiety respecting me. I 
am in wise and good hands, and do not sufler more than what 
is absolutely necessary." 

"Sept. 1. While lying awake last night, enjoyed most de- 
lightful views of God as a Father. Felt that my happiness is 
as dear to him as to myself; that he would not willingly hurt 



i 



EDWARD PAYSON. 373 

one hair of my head, nor let me suffer a moment's unnecessary 
pain. Felt that he was literally as willing to give as I could 
be to ask. Seemed, indeed, to have nothing to ask for." 

In a letter, dated Sept. 10th, after alluding to ''sore trials," 
and especially to one, of several events which had a most mel- 
ancholy and disastrous aspect on the religious prospects of the 
church, he says, ''This, coming just when we were expecting a 
revival, was peculiarly grievous; but I still hope, after God has 
crushed us into the dust, he will exalt us. He has been most 
wonderfully gracious to me during these trials. Never before 
have I enjoyed such consolations. It seems as evident as noon- 
day, that the same love which prompted the Saviour to bear the 
curse for us, would have led him to bear all our afflictions for 
us, were it not absolutely necessary that we should suffer in our 
own persons. I see, I feel, that he would as soon wound the 
apple of his eye, as give one of his people a moment's needless 
pain. I care not Avhat trials may come, for 1 know that they 
will be for my good, and that he will support me. " 

At the commencement at Bowdoin College, this month, he 
received the degree of Doctor in Divinity; but writes to his 
mother — "I beg you not to address your letters to me by that 
title, for I shall never make use of it. " 

"Sept. 19. Last night, while lying awake, had more distinct 
apprehensions of God's greatness than at any previous time. 
Realized little of any thing else except simple greatness; and 
this, although I seemed to have no views, compared with what 
might be, almost crushed me to death. I could not move a limb, 
nor scarcely breathe. Saw how easily a little view of God 
might destroy us. Could reaUze more than ever, that a clear 
view of God must be hell to the wicked; for had any sense of 
his anger accompanied this view of his greatness, I could not 
have supported it. 

"Oct. 11. Still my cup runs over with blessings. God gra- 
ciously continues to grant me his presence when I lie down, and 
when I rise up ; though he every day sees enough in me to jus- 
tify him in leaving me forever." 

•'Oct. 15. 

" God continues to be wonderfully gracious to me in 



374 MEMOIR OF 

spiritual things. I know not what it means. I never was so 
happy for so long a time before. I suspect some grievous trial 
is approaching. Let it come, if God pleases. While he is with 
me, I feel entirely independent of all circumstances, creatures, 
and events. Yet creature comforts are pleasant, when we can 
enjoy God in them. 

"I fear will do the church little good. At first it 

seemed to affect them in a proper manner, but the impression is 
fast wearing away. Whether God will scourge them still more 
severely, or whether he will come and melt them into repentance 
by unexpected displays of mercy, I do not know. If I could 
see them made to feel what a God Jehovah is, and what a Sa- 
viour Christ is, and what a place heaven is ! But I do not. 
Still, when I look at God in Christ, and see how good, how gra- 
cious, how condescending, how powerful he is, I am compelled, 
in spite of myself, to hope, and almost to feel sure, that I shall, 
sooner or later, see a revival of religion here. It may be, how- 
ever, that this bright day is designed only to prepare me for as 
dark a night. But I desire to do present duty, to enjoy with 
humble gratitude, present happiness, and let to-morrow take 
thought for itself " 

"Nov. 25. 

"A young man, member of our church, is just settled, 

and a revival has commenced. About fifty are awakened, and 
the Avork is increasing. He makes the fourth member of our 
church, who has been settled since I came here. " [Dr. Payson 
superintended the preparation of several young men for the 
ministry.] 

" Feb. 3, 1822. 

"If my letter takes its complexion from my feelings, it 

will appear gloomy indeed. Since I wrote last, it has been a 
season of trial with me. E. has a terrible abscess, which we 
feared would prove too much for her slender constitution. We 
wore almost worn out with watching; and, just as she began to 
amend, I was seized with a violent ague in my face, which gave 
me incessant anguish for six days and nights together, and de- 
prived me almost entirely of sleep. Three nights, I did not 
once close my eyes. When almost distracted with pain and loss 
of sleep, Satan was let loose upon me, to buffet me, and, I verily 
chough t, would have driven me to desperation and madness. 



EDWARD PAYSON. Si O 

Xor is my situation now much better. The fact is, my nervous 
system, at all times weak, has been so shattered by pain, and 
watching, and strong opiates, which gave no relief, that I am 
sunk in gloom and despondency, and can only write bitter things 
against myself. Surely no one suffers so much unprofitable 
misery as I do. I call it unprofitable, because it is of such a 
nature that I do not see how it possibly can produce any good 
effect. It only weakens, dispirits, and discourages me. 

"We have had a few instances of conviction, and at least one 
of conversion, since I wrote last; and the church, I hope, is 
gaining ground. You will be glad to hear that eight or ten are 
awakened in Gorham. " 

"Feb. 5. 

" I can now write in a less dismal strain. I am not happy, 
but I am less wretched. I feel, that while such a creature as I 
am is out of hell, I have great reason for thankfulness. But 
my flesh trembles, and my blood almost runs cold, when I look 
back upon what I have suffered. Certainly, a very large pro- 
portion of my path hes through the valley of the shadow of 
death. Bishop Hall says — 'None out of hell have suffered so 
much as some of God's children;' and I believe it. I should 
not, however, much regard my sufferings, if they were sancti- 
fied." 

"Feb. 19. 

"You will be glad, my dear mother, to hear that the man 
who had the legion is sitting at the feet of Jesus, in his right 
mind. I had obtained some rehef, when I wrote you last, but 
it proved of short continuance; the clouds returned after the 
rain, and I was again in the horrible pit and miry clay, and 
there remained till the next Sabbath. But now, I trust, the 
devil is cast out, though, as he departed from our Saviour only 
for a season, I know not how soon he may return. You know 
Mr. Newton thinks, that, comparatively speaking, he fights with 
neither small nor great, except with ministers. I know not how 
this may be; but if he torments others as he does me, I am sure 
I pity them. I am now so worn out with suffering and conflict, 
that I seem incapable of enjoyment; but T feel quiet and peace- 
ful, and that is a great mercy. 

" The symptoms of a revival increase among us. Perhaps a 
dozen have been awakened and three have obtained hope, since 



376 MEMOIR OF 

I wrote last. I was sent for to-day, to see a man ninety-two 
years old, who, after a long life of sin, is awakened in his old 
age. His situation, on the whole, seems encouraging, though 
he is nearly blind and deaf." 

" Feb. 26. 

" The revival has been advancing, and there now seems to 
be every reason to hope, that God has begun a great work 
among us. I would not be too sanguine, but things look more 
favorable than they have for seven or eight years. Every day, 
I have two, and three, and four inquirers to see me, and their 
convictions are very deep and pungent. Three have just ob- 
tained hope. 

'• I rejoice the more in this work, because it enables me to 
stop the mouth of my old adversary, and to prove to his face 
that he is a liar. I could not doubt that I had been enabled to 
pray for a revival these many years. Nor could I persuade my- 
self, that Christ had not promised it to me. The essence of a 
promise consists in voluntarily exciting expectation of some 
benefit. In this sense, a revival had often been promised to me. 
And when it was not granted ; when, one time after another, 
promising appearances died away ; and especially when I was 
left to such exercises as rendered it impossible that I should 
ever be favored with a revival, — Satan had a fine opportunity 
to work upon my unbelief, and to ask. Where is ^^-our God 1 
what do you get by praying to him 7 and where is the revival 
which he has been so long encouraging you to expect, and to 
pray for ? Now, I can answer these questions triumphantly, 
and put the lying tongue to silence. But the work is all God's ; 
and I stand and look on to see him work ; and this is favor 
enough, and infinitely more than I deserve. 

" You spoke in your last of poor . Rich you would 

cail him now, if you could see him. He has made more pro- 
gress in religion since , than he would in twenty years of 

ordinary advancement. I feel like a child when talking with 
him. Truly God's ways are not like ours. Meanwhile poor 
brother Rand, who is not half so undeserving of a revival as I 
am, is laid aside, just as soon as favorable symptoms begin to 
appear. His physicians speak very discouragingly." 

'' March 7. Preached in the evening to the largest assembly 



EDWARD PAYSON. 377 

that I had ever addressed at a Thursday lecture. Came home 
oncoLiraged, and rejoicing in God. The work is his — I am 
nothing, and love to be nothing. Dare not promise to serve 
God more faithfully. However extensive a revival he may 
send, I shall again be stupid and ungrateful, unless he pre- 



*' March 17. 
" The revival goes on. Fifteen, we hope, arc converted ; and 
four times that number under deep impressions. But in the 
midst of it I am laid aside. My lungs have been failing for 
several weeks, and I can preach no longer. After my last 
Thursday lecture, I had a strange turn. Every body thought 1 
was dying. It was occasioned by an inability in the heart, to 
free itself from the blood which poured in upon it. However, 
the doctor came, and took a large quantity of blood, which re- 
lieved me. But I am just as I was last spring, and, unless God 
interposes to help me, shall be unable to preach for weeks. You 
may well suppose that this is a trying dispensation ; but so far 
I am kept quiet under it. I feel that it is not only just, but 
wise and kind. Poor brother Rand is in the same situation. 
The revival among his people increases, but he can do nothing. 
I wish P. was here ; Ave both need him." 

'' May 20, 1823. 
•' Caesar, speaking of one of his many battles whicli 



was severely contested, observed that, on former occasions, he 
had fought for victory, but then he fought for life. Even so it 
is with me. Once I fought for victory, and no ordinary victory 
would satisfy me ; but my strength, and courage, and ambition, 
are now so crushed, that I fight merely for life, and I am 
scarcely able to secure even that. Still I hope for victory ulti- 
mately. I have just finished a sermon on Hezekiah's petition, 
' O Lord, I am oppressed ; undertake for me.' It has given me 
some comfort ; it ought to give me more. Indeed, if we proper- 
ly considered who Christ is, and what he has undertaken to do 
for us, we should never need consolation, but mighty like St. 
Paul, though sorrowful, be always rejoicing ; and say with him 
' Blessed be God, who hath blessed us with all spiritual bless- 
ings in heavenly places in Christ .Jesus.' I have prepared 
VOL. I. 48 



378 MEMOIR OF 

another sermon from a succeeding passage in the same chapter, 
' Thou hast, in love to my soul, delivered it from the pit of cor- 
ruption.' The words ' delivered it ' are not in the original ; 
and, as father Henry observes, the passage may be read, 
' Thou hast loved my soul from the pit of corruption; thou hast 
loved my soul when it was in the pit of corruption, and thou 
hast loved it out of the pit of corruption ; not merely taken it 
out, and redeemed it out, but loved it out.' " 

" May 25. 

'' My sermon on Christ's undertaking for us does me more 
and more good. I wish I could impart to you some of the com- 
fort which it gives me. I wish to get away from frames and 
feelings, and live continually on the precious truth, 'Christ has 
undertaken for me.' He is able, he is faithful, he will keep 
what he has undertaken to keep, he will do all he has underta- 
ken to do. Another passage has been very sweet to me this morn- 
ing, and I think I shall preach upon it next Sabbath : ' He hath 
made us accepted in the Beloved.' To be accepted of God, to 
be accepted in his beloved Son — what an honor ! what a privi- 
lege ! Well may it be said, to every one who enjoys it, ' Go 
thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a 
merry heart ; for God now accepteth thy works.' 

" Our church began, last winter, to employ a domestic mis- 
sionary. They sent him to a town which has long been with- 
out a minister, and where, just before, a vain attempt had been 
made to raise one hundred dollars to pay for preaching. His 
labors produced such effect, that they have now raised a perma- 
nent fund, which will support a minister for ever. They have 
also given our missionary a unanimous call to settle with them. 
We shall make a similar experiment in another town, as soon 
as we can find a suitable missionary. How much is money 
worth at such a time as this !" 

Dr. Payson describes a species of trial, to which he was twice 
subjected, that will, probably, at the first glance, surprise those 
who were acquainted with his strong confidence in revelation, 
and his rich experience in the consolations of religion. It 
shows most vividly the awful malice of the "accuser of the 
brethren," whose power to distress Christians, as well as his 



EDWARD PAYSON. 379 

agency among '' the children of disobedience," is greatly under- 
rated at the present day ; and even his existence is extensively 
doubted. Against the servant of God, who was making such 
inroads upon his kingdom, he seems to have directed all his 
" fiery darts." They gave temporary pain, but inflicted no 
mortal wound. The adversary was foiled. 

" Dec. 5, 1823. 
"I have been sick, and laid by from preaching on 



thanksgiving day and two Sabbaths, but am now able to re- 
sume my labors. But O the temptations which have harassed 
me for the last three months ! I have met with nothing like 
them in books. I dare not mention them to any mortal, lest 
they should trouble him as they have troubled me ; but should 
I become an apostate, and write against religion, it seems to me 
that I could bring forward objections which would shake the 
faith of all the Christians in the world. What I marvel at is, 
that the arch deceiver has never been permitted to suggest them 
to some of his scribes, and have them published. They would, 
or I am much mistaken, make fearful work with Christians for 
a time, though God, would doubtless, enable them to overcome in 
the end. It seems to me, that my state has been far worse than 
that of Mansoul was when Diabolus and his legions broke into 
the town. They could not get into the castle, the heart ; 
but my castle was full of them. But do not be troubled for 
me; I am now better. Let me, then, try to comfort my 
mother." 

The other passage, depicting a similar conflict, was written 
about a year and a half later than the above mentioned : — 

" It seems to me, that those who die young, like Brainerd 
and Martyn, know almost nothing of the difiiculty of persever- 
ing in the Christian race. My difficulties increase every year. 
There is one trial which you cannot know experimentally. It 
is that of being obliged to preach to others, when one doubts of 
every thing, and can scarcely believe that there is a God. All 
the atheistical, deistical, and heretical objections, which I meet 
with in books, are childish babblings, compared with those 
which Satan suggests, and which he urges upon the mind with 
a force which seems irresistible. Yet I am often obliged to 



380 MEMOIR OF 

write sermons, and to preach, when these objections beat upon 
me like a whirlwind, and almost distract me. When he 
asks, as he does continually ask, What have you gained by all 
your prayers ? I know not what to reply. However, pray I 
must, and God assisting me, pray I will. The way is indeed 
difficult, but I can devise no other which is not more so. There 
is no one to whom I can go, if I forsake Christ." 

As to the influence of these last quoted passages on the read- 
er's mind, they are adapted, not to raise doubts respecting the 
genuineness and authenticity of revelation, but to strengthen his 
confidence in it, as the sure word of God, which endureth for- 
ever. The obvious and legitimate inference from them is, that 
the Bible can sustain, uninjured, attacks and objections, as 
much more formidable than any which have been directed against 
it by the mightiest infidels, as their objections are superior to the 
merest " childish babblings." If such tremendous volleys, from 
the enemy's battery, could not rend away the foundations of 
Dr. Pay son's faith, however they might distress him for a time, 
that faith surely rested on a basis as firm as the everlasting hills, 
which all the powers of earth and hell will for ever assail in 
vain. An opposite conclusion would be as illogical and prepos- 
terous as it is false in itself. No reasonable man can adduce 
Dr. Payson's temptations to discredit religion ; for they are 
vanquished temptations. Be it remembered, that he overcame 
them all. However weighty or numerous the objections to re- 
vealed religion, the evidences vastly preponderate. 

We have ascribed these '* doubts and temptations " to Satan, 
without undertaking to define the manner or degree of his agen- 
cy on the human mind, or to distinguish his suggestions from 
man's voluntary acts. If we have indicated their true source, it 
should not surprise us that these doubts respect what is funda- 
mental in religion. Dr. Payson^s language, on another occa- 
sion, is applicable to this case: '' Satan will not disturb a false 
peace, because it is a peace of which he is the author." For 
the same reason, he would not disturb a man's speculative be- 
lief in a religion fundamentally erroneous ; for this would be 
' dividing against himself,' and undermining his own king- 
dom. 

It seems, from numerous facts, which might be adduced, to 
have been in the counsels of God, that, among those whom 



EDWARD PAYSON. 381 

he designed to be distinguished instruments in defending and 
promoting the pure religion of the Bible, no inconsiderable 
number should be subjected to the severest trials, in regard 
to its claims to human confidence. That laborious and suc- 
cessful servant of God, Richard Baxter, underwent this test. 
John Bunyan had long and distressing trials of this kind : 
" Whole floods of blasphemies," he tells us, " both against God, 
Christ, and the Scriptures, were poured in upon his spirit, to 
his great confusion and astonishment. These blasphemous 
thoughts stirred up questions in him against the very being of 
God, and of his only beloved Son ; as whether there were, in 
truth, a God or Christ, and whether the Holy Scriptures were 
not rather a fable and cunning story^ than the holy and pure 
word of God." Even his pilgrim, whose experience was in- 
tended to represent that of ordinary Christians, and to whose 
fidelity, in its grand outlines and general character, every 
evangelical Christian can testify, did not reach the celestial 
city without encountering atheistical doubts on his way thither. 
References of this kind might be multiplied ; but what do 
they prove ? Not that the Scriptures are false, and religion a 
delusion, but that they can survive, and shine the brighter, 
and stand the firmer, notwithstanding the most malignant and 
desperate assaults of their most powerful foes. By these tri- 
als, considered as a dispensation of God, many valuable ends 
are answered. The champion of the cross, who is destined 
to make wide encroachments on the kingdom of Satan, must 
not be " ignorant of his devices." He must see and know 
the enemies to be resisted, in order to wield his spiritual 
weapons with skill and effect. When Luther took the '^ cowl 
and tonsure," he little knew for what purpose; and human 
foresight would never have predicted the consequences which 
grew out of his seclusion. But it was in a monastery that he 
acquired that knowledge and experience, which fitted him for 
the peculiar part which he was subsequently to act, in demol- 
ishing monastic institutions, and in kindling and spreading 
the light of the glorious reformation. His own testimony rec- 
ognises, what every Christain will readily admit, that the 
design of God, in permitting him to become a monk, was very 
different from that of the adversary in tempting him to be 
one : — "Of the propriety of my conduct at that time, my 



382 MEMOIR OF 

opinion has certainly undergone a change ; but God, by his 
infinite wisdom and mercy, has been pleased to produce great 
good out of evil. Satan seems to have anticipated in me, 
from my infancy, some of those qualities which have since 
appeared; and, to prevent the progress of the cause in which 
I have been instrumental, he affected my mind to such a 
degree as to make me often wonder whether I was the only 
creature whom he tormented. Now, however, I perceive that 
God directed that I should acquire, by personal experience, a 
knowledge of the constitution of universities and monasteries, 
that my opponents might have no handle to boast that I pre- 
tended to condemn things of which I was ignorant. It was 
ordained, therefore, that I should pass part of my life in a 
monastery." 

But, while it is a grand object with that "adversary, who 
goeth about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour," 
to weaken, and, if possible, to destroy, the faith of God's people 
in the fundamental articles of religion, and to shake their hope 
of a personal interest in its blessings, there is something in the 
man himself which makes him anxious on these points, and 
predisposes him to tremble, lest they should not abide the test. 
And no wonder ; for they concern his eternal well-being. 
Where he regards his all as depending, it is natural that he 
should feel his ground, and look well to his foundation. If he 
fail here, he suffers a total failure. Hence we often see persons 
more confident respecting the circumstantials of religion, than 
they are concerning its essentials. Anecdotes exhibiting this 
quality will occur to every one on reflection. 

The doubts which, during his early investigation of theologi- 
cal subjects. Dr. Payson expressed respecting some points of the 
Calvinistic system, or the doctrines which are usually thus des- 
ignated, cannot, without manifest perversion, be used to the 
prejudice of evangelical truth ; for to them, also, the reasoning 
above most forcibly applies. In the resolution of these doubts, 
in such a mind as his, there is a testimony to the truth of the 
doctrines of grace too valuable to be lost. Every shock which 
they receive leaves them more firmly established. By the same 
means, they acquired a hold on his own soul, which his power- 
ful and exasperated foe could not disengage, though the effort 
sunk him '^ in heaviness for a season, through the manifold 



EDWARD PAYSON. 383 

temptations" which accompanied it. Of the doctrines of grace, 
no man was ever more " fully persuaded in his own mind" than 
Dr. Payson, and the influence of this persuasion was most pow- 
erful in wresting from " the god of this world" some of his most 
valued subjects. It was a means of converting, from a lax 
theology and consequent indifference to eternal concerns, to 
evangelical faith and obedience, some who were distinguished 
for their standing and their wealth. The enemy of all righte- 
ousness saw no way to shake his firmness in these doctrines, 
except by an attempt to discredit that revelation of God, in 
which they are found. Hence, probably, the peculiar trials 
which have occasioned these remarks. 

The reader, however, is not to infer, that the doubts and 
temptations above recorded are any necessary part of religion ; 
or, indeed, that they are among the healthful operations of piety. 
This is far from being the case. They have their occasion, 
partly, at least, in bodily and even spiritual disease ; under the 
influence of which the subjects of them are peculiarly liable to 
the vexations and blasphemous assaults of Satan. And doubt- 
less they should be viewed as chastisements, as well as grievous 
calamities ; and if a man could know all that was in his heart, 
he might know to what sin or sinful tendency the punishment 
was suited. Bunyan, after having been delivered from these 
horrid exercises, which he endured for a long time, attributed 
them chiefly to two causes : " That, after being freed from one 
temptation, he did not still pray to God to keep him from the 
temptation that was to come ;" and " That he had tempted God. 
not by any outward act, but by secretly saying in his heart, 
Lord, if now thou wilt remove this sad afiliction, .... 
then shall I know that thou canst discern the most secret thoughts 
of the heart." The aflliction was suddenly removed ; but, for 
his presumption, a sting was left in his conscience more intoler- 
able than any bodily anguish. So far as these trials were visit- 
ed upon Dr. Payson as a chastisement, it must have been for 
sins of the heart ; for outwardly he was remarkably circum- 
spect. The external act which cost him more anguish than any 
other act in his life, and which is dwelt upon more circumstan- 
tially than any other in his journal, was one, in itself of the 
most trifling and indifferent character, too insignificant to be 
specified : and yet was so associated in his mind with other 



C>S4 MEMOIR OF 

circumstances, as to distress him beyond measure, and excite 
his fears that he was completely given over into the hands of 
the enemy. Still the reasonings which he applies to the case, 
even at the time, are strikingly apposite, scriptural, and ration- 
al, and ought to have brought him complete relief. That they 
did not, shows rather the strength of his malady, than the degree 
of his guilt. 

Let it then be fixed in the mind, that these horrible exercises 
are not to be coveted as a necessary part of Christian experi- 
ence. Far otherwise; it should be our daily prayer to be kept 
from such temptations. As a defence against them, we should 
trust in God at all times, and pour out our hearts before him. 
We should strive to banish such suggestions from the mind, 
when they enter it, and to hold up the shield of faith as a 
defence against these fiery darts of the devil, when we see them 
approaching. "Tell me," says Baxter, ''what you would do. 
if you heard a scold in the street reviling you, or heard an 
atheist there talk against God ; would you stand still to hear 
them, or rather go from them, and disdain to hear them, or 
debate the case with such as they 7 Do you, in your case, when 
Satan casts in ugly, or despairing, or murmuring thoughts, go 
away from them to some other thoughts or business. . . . 
To be tempted, is common to the best. Yet be not too much 
troubled at the temptation ; for trouble of mind doth keep the 
evil matter in your memory, and so increase it, as the pain of a 
sore draws the blood and spirits to the place. And this is the 
design of Satan, to give you troubling thoughts, and then 
to cause more, by being troubled at those; and so, for one 
thought and trouble, to cause another, and that another, and 
so on." 

That physical constitution and temperament which qualify 
men to exert an uncommon influence over their fellow men, to 
excite their sympathies, to touch the springs of action, and call 
their feelings into vigorous exercise ; to rouse, impel and guide a 
whole community, and to leave an example which shall act 
with impressive energy upon posterity, seem also to have been 
connected, in many eminent instances, with a predisposition to 
melancholy and depression. Luther is a distinguished example 
of these apparently opposite qualities. '' He, who was so bold 
in asserting the cause of Christianity, and so fearless of person- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 385 

al danger in its promotion, was not unfrequently sunk in despon- 
dency, and was doubtful even whether he was a real Chris- 
tian." Thus God hath set one thing over against the other, 
that all may feel their dependence, and that no flesh might glory 
in his presence. 

When Christ said to Peter, " Satan hath desired to have thee 
that he may sift thee as wheat," he immediately after indica- 
ted his own purpose, in permitting that disciple to fall, by the 
injunction, " When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren." 
It is perfectly obvious, that, after his fall and recovery, he was, 
in some respects, better qualified to edify the church of God 
than either of his fellow disciples, or than he could have been 
himself without the experience of that guilty, shameful, melt- 
ing, heart-breaking process of backsliding and recovery. He 
exercised a train of emotions, to which he must otherwise have 
been a stranger, and which had a most important influence on 
his own character and labors, as a minister of Christ, as well 
as on his success. Bunyan enumerates several advantages as 
accruing from his torturing, frightful temptations; such as a 
wonderful sense of the blessing and glory of God, and of his 
beloved Son. The glory of God's holiness did break him to 
pieces, and the compassion of Christ did break him as on the 
wheel. The Scriptures also were wonderful things to him ; he 
saw more into the nature of the promises than ever before ; for 
while he lay trembling under the mighty hand of God, continu- 
ally rent and torn by the thundering of his justice, it made him, 
with a careful heart and watchful eye, turn over every leaf, 
and, with much diligence, mixed with much trembling, to con- 
sider every sentence together with its natural force and latitude. 
It cured him of putting off the word of promise when it came 
into his mind. He did not look principally for comfort, though 
it would have been inexpressibly Avelcome, but a word to lean a 
weary soul upon, that it may not sink forever. He saw those 
heights and depths in grace, and love, and mercy, which he 
never saw before ; and that, where guilt is most terrible and 
fierce, there the mercy of God in Christ, when showed to the 
soul, appears most high and mighty 7 Without these deep and 
painful experiences, could he ever have been so eminently suc- 
cessful in guiding pilgrims through the snares of their difficult 
road, or have set so many way-marks to keep them from " the 

VOL. I. 49 



386 MEMOIR OF 

enchanted ground," from " doubting castle," and " giant 
Despair?" By similar discipline was Dr. Payson prepared 
to bring relief to the afflicted people of God, as has been al- 
ready seen. Costly as was his experimental knowledge, he was 
a thousand times repaid for it, by being made the minister of 
peace to the worried and affrighted sheep of Christ's fold. Shall 
we therefore do evil that good may come 1 God forbid. If we 
are exempted from these distresses while we are enabled to give 
due attention to the concerns of our souls, our thanks to God 
should abound. We now return from this digression. 

"Jan. 1, 1824. Rose early, and tried to pray; but a weak, 
languid frame crushed me down. I have, however, reason to 
bless God, that he allows such a wretch as I am to serve him 
at all. Groaned and struggled with my weakness before 
God. Read a number of passages in my diary, especially 
what is recorded under date of Dec. 16, 1815. Am glad I kept 
a journal. I had other Avise forgotten much of what I have done 
against God, and of what he has done for me. Was confound- 
ed at what I read. My words are swallowed up. My life, my 
ministry, has been madness, madness ! What shall I do 7 
Where shall I hide 7 To sin, after I had sinned so much, and 
after I had been forgiven ! But I cannot write ! I cannot 
think I And if my sins appear so black in my book, how do 
they appear in God's ! 

" Jan. 29. Have had much to be thankful for, and much to 
be ashamed of, for some days past. God has been more than 
ordinarily gracious to me, granting me liberty of access to him 
in prayer, and permitting me to be, in some degree, useful. I 
have received many tokens of warm affection from his people, 
and been assisted in my work Have learned a les- 
son which I ought to have learned before. I am religiously 
romantic. I am always expecting something out of the common 
course, and planning what God is going to do. 

"May 15. Rode to G. to give them a day's preaching, as 
they are destitute. Took up a poor cripple by the way, and 
preached Christ to him. Felt some pity and love for him, while 
talking. A curious combination of circumstances threw him in 
my way. Could not but think how we both should admire the 



EDWARD PAYSON. 387 

leadings of Providence, if he should be converted in consequence 
of what was said to him. 

"July 20. Perplexed what to do. My people wish me to go 
to Europe. Tried to commit the case to God. 

" Oct. 17. Slept none last night, and my sufferings were great. 
My right arm seems about to perish. Could say, God's will be 
done. 

"Nov. 7. What I have long feared has come upon me. My 
voice and my faculties are half gone already, and what remains 
is rapidly departing. 

"Nov. 27. Was favored with a most precious season in 
prayer. Had such views of God and Christ ! Lay and mourn- 
ed at his feet, till I was exhausted, and longed unutterably to be 
more holy, and to have others holy. O, what reason have I to 
bless God for this ! 

"Jan. 5, 182.5. At the concert on Monday, recommended to 
the church to imitate the Lord's prayer, and always begin their 
supplications with praying that God's name may be glorified. 
Have derived much benefit from pursuing this practice. Made 
eleven visits, and felt thankful for having strength to do it. 

"Jan. 31. Felt very happy and dead to the world, all day. 
Rejoiced in God, and cared not what he did with me. 

" Feb. 9. Had a delightful season in prayer. It seemed as 
if it was only to ask and receive. Had nothing to ask for my- 
self, except that I might be swallowed up in the will of God. 

"Feb. 15, 16. Much engaged in visiting. Went to the ut- 
most extent of my strength. Felt insatiable desires for more 
holiness." 

" Boston, March 21, 1825. 
"My dear mother: — lvalue your letters much, and your 
prayers still more ; and sometimes think that your life is pre- 
served, principally, to pray for your children. It will be found, 
I doubt not, in the coming world, that ministers had much less 
share in the success which attends their labors, than is now sup- 
posed. It will be found, that, if they drew the bow, the prayers 
of Christians pointed and guided the arrow. I preached last 
evening to an immense concourse of people. After the pews 
were filled, seats were brought in, and placed in ail the aisles. 
So far as I know, however, very little good has been done by 



388 MEMOIR OF 

my labors here. But I desire to leave it all with God. I am 
astonished and ashamed by the kindness with which his people 
here treat me. * * * * 

' ' You express a wish that my feelings were more equable. 
I wish they were. But I am so completely wretched when God 
withdraws from me, that the removal of that wretchedness by 
his return, renders me almost too happy. This thought has 
lately been of some service to me. Every Christian ought to 
love God in proportion to what has been forgiven him. But 
every Christian knows more evil of himself than he can know 
of any other human being. He ought therefore to feel as if 
more had been forgiven him, and as if he were under greater 
obligations to love God than any other human being; as if it 
were worse for him to sin against God than it would be for any 
other. " 

" Portland, July 27. 
-'I had attempted to observe my birth-day as a day of 



prayer, but apparently to no purpose. I was so unwell that I 
could do nothing. However, the next day, the blessings which 
I wished to ask for, but could not, were bestowed. I need not 
tell you how sweet, how soothing, how refreshing, Christ's re- 
turning presence is, after long absence. Still I am borne down 
in such a manner by ill health, that I can but half rejoice. The 
state of religion among us helps, also, to crush me. There 
never has been so entire a suspension of divine influences, since 
my settlement, as at present. Those of the church who are 
most spiritual, tell me that they never found it so difficult to 
perform religious duties, as they do now. In fine, the church 
seems to be on Bunyan's enchanted ground, and many of them 
are sleeping in some of the arbors which he mentions. Whether 
they will wake before death, seems doubtful. '' 

''Sept. 29. 
"I preached last Sabbath on being guilty of the blood of 



souls; and endeavored to point out some of the ways in which 
we may incur this guilt. I have incurred but too much of it; 
and it lies upon me with a weight which I know not how to 
bear, but which I cannot throw off. True, blood has been shed 
for us, which has efficacy to take away the guilt of blood. But 



EDWARD PAYSON. 389 

though this consideration may keep us from despair, it cannot 
shield us, or, at least, cannot shield one whose guilt is like mine, 
from the sufferings occasioned by self-reproach,- and a wounded 
spirit. I seldom think of the time I spent in B. without a pang, 
the keenness of which you cannot easily conceive. It is a pain- 
ful thought, that we are so long in learning how to live, that 
ere the lesson is well learned, life is spent. Another subject, on 
which I have lately been writing, and which has assisted to 
increase my depression, was suggested by the passage — ' Even 
Christ pleased not himself ' If any one, who ever lived in this 
world, had a right to please himself, he surely had such a right ; 
yet how far was he from exercising or claiming it ! He evidently 
adopted and acted upon the principle, that, as man, he was not 
his own; that he belonged to God, and to the universe, and that 
he must do nothing merely for the sake of promoting his own 
personal gratification. I contemplate this example with feelings 
similar to those with which a child, who has just begun to hold 
a pen, may be supposed to look upon a superb copper-plate, 
which he is required to imitate; or, rather, with such feelings as 
one might indulge, who had been learning to write for many 
years, and yet found himself further from resembling his copy, 
than he was at first. " 

"Nov. 4. Quarterly fast. Went to meeting feeling very 
unwell, and found very few assembled. Was obliged to wait 
half an hour before there was a sufiicient number to sing. Was 
entirely overcome by discouragement. Could not say a word, 
and, after struggling in vain with my feelings, was obliged to 
state them to the church and come away. 

"Nov. 9. Installation of a minister over the Third Church, 
to-day. Have reason to be thankful, that I have been carried 
through this business of separation so well, and that affection 
for those who have left us is rather increased than diminished. " 

This last date brings us down to a period, from which his 
health may be said to have been constantly declining. The 
progress of the maladies, which were wasting away his frame, 
may have been stayed for a few days or weeks in succession, 
after this; but their hold on him was never more weakened. 
The winter succeeding was one of infirmity and suffering. He 
continued to preach on the Sabbath; but the exhaustion conse- 



390 MEMOIR OF 

quent upon the exertion, often rendered it difficult for him to 
reach his home, distant but a few rods. So much overcome 
was he, as to be physically unable to lead the devotions of his 
own family; and his Sabbath nights were nights of restlessness 
and anguish. Still, when holy time again returned, he longed 
for the habitation of God's house, and again repeated his efforts, 
and with similar consequences. 

Observing with alarm this prostration of his strength, his peo- 
ple, in the spring of 1826, resolved upon an alteration of their 
mcetmg-house, with a view to his relief The ceiling was 
brought down and arched, and the floor inclined towards the 
pulpit, by which changes more than one-third of the space to 
be filled by the speaker's voice was excluded, and the difficulty 
of filling it diminished in a still greater proportion. It was 
while this alteration was in progress, that he made his circuitous 
and last journey to the Springs, which has already been men- 
tioned. 

On arriving there, he said to Mr. Whelpley, in allusion to his 
health — "I am in pursuit of a good which is constantly flying 
before me, and which, I apprehend, will forever elude my grasp. " 
' The incessant and unremitted labor of years, " adds Mr. W., 
'•seemed to have left him but a mere wreck of being, which he 
longed to be rid of to serve God in a region of perfect health 
and boundless activity. He had little expectation of recovering 
his health, and several times remarked, that, if it was the will 
of God to take him away speedily, it was no matter how soon 
he departed. The idea of wearing out his days in a state of 
inactivity and consequent depression, was distressing to him, 
and made him deeply solicitous to have the question of life and 
death fully settled. Sometimes, said he, when I retire to bed, I 
should be happy to have it the last night of my life. With Job 
he might say — ''I am made to possess months of vanity, and 
wearisome nights are appointed unto me. When I lie down, I 
say. When shall I arise, and the night be gone ? I am full of 
tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day ! When I say. 
My bed shall comfort me, and my couch shall ease my complaint; 
then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me with night 
visions; so that my soul chooseth strangling and death rather 
than life. I loathe it; I would not live alway. " 
Mr. Whelpley imagined — and in this he was unquestionably 



EDWARD PAYSON. 391 

correct — that the sufferings of Dr. Payson were greater than 
any one knew or suspected ; and he adds, '• they were endured, 
for the mostj in silence. At midnight, he would arise and walk 
his room, singing some plaintive air. At first, I knew not what 
to make of the unwonted and mournful sounds, which broke in 
upon my slumbers ; and often, as the sound softly died away, 
my soul was filled with sadness. He complained much of his 
head. In one conversation, he dwelt particularly on the causes 
which had operated to undermine and destroy his health. 
Among them was his great and increasing anxiety for a general 
and powerful revival of religion among his people; his incessant 
labors to secure so great a blessing, and the repeated disappoint- 
ments he had experienced from year to year. We would seem, 
said Dr. Payson, to be on the eve of an extensive revival, and 
my hopes would be correspondently raised ; and then the favor- 
able appearances would vanish away. Under the powerful 
excitement of hope, and under the succeeding depression arising 
from disappointment, my strength failed, and I sunk rapidly 
under my labors. He spoke of having been under a temptation, 
constantly, to labor beyond his strength; and believed many a 
faithful minister had thus been tempted by Satan to cut short 
his days. In this way his own life had been shortened. When, 
ill a season of excitement, he had exhausted his whole strength, 
even then Satan suggested that he had not done enough, but 
must do much more, or be counted unfaithful." 

If the proofs of his disinterestedness were not so abundant 
and conclusive, this ceaseless anxiety for a revival could hardly 
be regarded otherwise than as a sinful impatience, and as indi- 
cating a want of gratitude for what God did perform by him. 
It appears the more remarkable, when contemplated in con- 
nexion with the fact, that the church was continually growing 
under his ministrations, and the congregation enlarging, until 
there was not room enough to receive them. There are many 
good ministers, who would consider themselves favored by such 
a measure of success as attended his least honored labors. In 
no year of his ministry did his church receive less than ten new 
members, and in only one year so small a number ; while, at 
another time, the yearly increase was seventy-three, and in the 
year of his death, seventy-nine ; and the average number was 
more than thirty-five a year during the whole of his ministry. 



392 MEMOIR OF 

If there were an entire suspension of divine influences at any 
time, it was of temporary duration. Judging from the acces- 
sions made to the church, there must have been a constant and 
gradual work of God. If the term of his ministry be divided 
into periods of five years, the number added in each period 
differs from that of any other period, by a comparatively small 
number. The difference is in favor of the first two periods, 
when, with fewer bodily infirmities, he " ceased not daily, and 
from house to house, to testify repentance towards God, and 
faith in our Lord Jesus Christ." 

About mid-summer, he returned from his last excursion 
abroad to the bosom of his family and flock, and continued to 
employ the little strength which remained in making known 
Jesus Christ and him crucified. From this labor no entreaties 
could prevail with him to desist. He continued to occupy his 
pulpit on the Sabbath, for the most part, through the following 
winter; notwithstanding parts of his body, particularly his 
right arm, had already begun to perish, and were not only use- 
less, but an incumbrance. But while " the outward man de- 
cayed, the inward man was renewed day by day." This is in 
a degree true of his mental faculties, as well as of his religious 
progress. The coruscations of his intellect delighted and aston- 
ished his visiters. Among these was the Secretary of the Amer- 
ican Education Society, who, asking Dr. Payson for a message 
which he might carry from him to beneficiaries, received the 
following impromptu : — 

" What if God should place in your hand a diamond, and 
tell you to inscribe on it a sentence which should be read at the 
last day, and shown there as an index of your own thoughts 
and feelings ? What care, what caution would you exercise in 
the selection ! Now, this is what God has done. He has plac- 
ed before you immortal minds, more imperishable than the dia- 
mond, on which you are about to inscribe, every day and every 
hour, by your instructions, by your spirit, or by your example, 
something which will remain, and be exhibited for, or against 
you, at the judgment day." 

We shall close our extracts, and this chapter, with two short 
letters to his mother, the last he ever wrote : — 



edward pay son. 393 

" Feb. 1, 1827. 
*' My dear mother : — I have just received your letter ; and 
though 1 am obHged to write with my left hand, and that is 
numb, 1 must try to scratch a few lines in reply. I am no bet- 
ter ; am tolerably contented and happy, but have not much sen- 
sible consolation. We have increasing evidence that L. is 
become pious; but E. who seemed to be in a promising way, 
has lost his impressions. You have probably heard, that Mr. R. 
has hopes that H. is converted. We have about a dozen hope- 
ful converts, and appearances are encouraging. I have much 
to be thankful for. Wife, children and people, all try to minis- 
ter to my comfort. I rejoice to hear that your mind is in so 
desirable a frame, though I expected no less. God has not led 
you so far to forsake you at last. Should you be taken away 
before me, I shall feel as Elisha did when he lost Elijah ; for I 
doubt not your prayers have been of great service to me. I re- 
ceived a letter from G. lately, inviting me to come and spend 
part of the winter at New York. I thank him, but I cannot 
come. Home is the only place for a cripple, who can neither 
dress nor undress himself; besides, I can be of some service to 
my people, while here. I have many things to say ; but writ- 
ing is so wearisome and painful, that I can add nothing more. 
Assure G. and E. of my warmest love, and believe me 

" Your affectionate son." 

"Feb. 20. 
" My dear mother : — I wrote the enclosed letter three weeks 
since, and sent it with the money by a man, who said he was 
going to New York ; but after I hoped it had arrived there, it 
came back to me again. I have just received your last letter, 
and what shall I say in reply ? If my hand would permit, I 
could say much ; if my health would allow of it, I would come 
and see you. As it is, I can only say, God be with you, my 
dear mother, and bless you, as he has made you a blessing to 
me. If it be his will that we should not meet again in this world, 
I must say — Farewell, for a short time ; for short, I trust, will 
be the time before we meet again. Farewell, then, my dear, 
dear mother! for a short time, farewell !" 

It proved to be the last farewell. His mother, a few days 
afterwards, was called to her eternal home. 
VOL- I. 50 



CHAPTER XX. 



His last labors — His spiritual joys, heavenly counsels, and brightening intel- 
lect, dui-ing the progress of liis disease — His triumphant exit — Conclusion. 



Dr. Payson Avas at length compelled to yield to the irresisti- 
ble pov/er of disease. Parts of his body, including his right 
arm and left side, were very singularly affected. They were 
incapable of motion, and lost all sense of feeling externally ; 
while, in the interior parts of the limbs thus affected, he expe- 
rienced, at intervals, a most intense burning sensation, which he 
compared to a stream of fused metal, or liquid fire, coursing 
through his bones. No external applications were of the least 
service ; and in addition to his acute sufferings from this source. 
he was frequently subject to the most violent attacks of nervous 
head-ache. 

It was with great reluctance that he relinquished preaching. 
" The spirit continued willing," long after the " flesh failed." 
But who can resist the appointment of Heaven ! The decree 
had gone forth, that he must die ; and the progress of his com- 
plicated maladies declared but too unequivocally that the de- 
cree must soon be executed. He did not, however, cease 
preaching at once, but, at first, secured assistance for half the 
day only. An arrangement to this effect, which was expected 
to continue several weeks, commenced on the second Sabbath 
of March. He occupied the pulpit in the morning. His text 
was, 'The word of the Lord is tried.' The sermon was not 
written, of course ; but no one, that he ever wrote, not even his 
celebrated discourse on the Bible was more instructive and 



MEMOIR OF EDWARD PAYSON. 395 

eloquent than this — particularly those parts in which he de- 
scribed the trials to which the word of the Lord had been sub- 
jected by its enemies, and the tests of a different character 
which it had sustained from its friends. Never, scarcely, were 
the mightiest infidels made to appear so puny, insignificant, and 
foolish. " He who sitteth in the heavens " could almost be 
seen " deriding them." When describing the manner in which 
Christians had tried it, he '' spoke out of the abundance of his 
heart." Experience aided his eloquence, and added strength to 
the conviction which it wrought. And it would have been 
listened to with a still greater intenseness of interest, had his 
own trials, mentioned in the preceding chapter, been known. 
The application of the subject to his auditory must be left 
for imagination to supply ; for it cannot be conveyed on 
paper. 

On pronouncing the blessing, he requested the congregation 
to resume their seats. He descended from the pulpit, and took 
his station in front of it, and commenced a most solemn appeal 
to the assembly. He began with a recognition of that feeling 
in an auditory, which leads them to treat a minister's exhorta- 
tions as if they were merely a discharge of professional duty, 
by one placed above them, and having little sympathy with 
them. " I now put aside the minister," said he ; "I come down 
among you ; place myself on a visible equality ; I address you 
as a fellow-man, a friend, a brother, and fellow-traveller to the 
bar of God ; as one equally interested with yourselves in the 
truths which I have been declaring." He then gave vent to 
the struggling emotions of his heart, in a strain of affectionate 
entreaty, expressing the most anxious desires for their salvation. 
In conclusion, he referred them to the common practice, when 
men have any great object to accomplish, of assembling togeth- 
er, and adopting resolutions expressive of their convictions and 
purposes ; and he wished his hearers to follow him in a series 
which he was about to propose, and to adopt them, not by any 
visible act or expression, but mentally, if they thought them of 
sufficient importance, and could do it sincerely. One resolution 
expressed a conviction of the truth of the Bible ; another, of 
criminal indifference to its momentous disclosures; another, ac- 
knowledged the claims of Jehovah ; another, the paramomit 
importance of attention to the concerns of the soul- and 



396 MEMOIR OF 

another, the purpose to seek its salvation without delay. 
Though his withered right arm hung helpless by his side, yet he 
seemed " instinct with life ;" and every successive resolution 
was rendered emphatic by a gesture of the left. 

In all his public ministrations, during this period, when his 
body was sinking towards the grave, there was a singular 
adaptedness of truth to existing circumstances. The subjects 
upon which he expatiated were in unison with his condition, as 
a servant of God ripening fast for heaven. There was much 
of the nature of testimony for God. He omitted no opportuni- 
ty, public or private, to maintain the honor and perfections of 
Him, whose ambassador he was. He could scarcely utter a 
word, without rendering it obvious to all who heard him, that 
God was higher in his esteem than any, than all created be- 
ings. One illustration of this statement was afforded by a ser- 
mon which he preached as late as the last Sabbath in April, 
from 2 Samuel xviii. 3 — 'Thou art worth ten thousand of us.' 
Parts of this sermon are reported from recollection, by his eldest 
daughter, who has been the most successful — where all fail, 
in retaining his characteristic expressions. 

The text, which was addressed to David by his subjects. Dr. 
Payson applied to Jehovah, and illustrated its truth in this ap- 
plication by a variety of methods, showing that God is worth 
ten thousand times ten thousand of human beings ; yea, worth 
more than all the creatures that ever have been, and all that 
ever will be created : — 

'"Suppose you take the capacity for happiness, which has 
been said by philosophers to be the only true standard of perfec- 
tion : — if the happiness which God enjoys were divided into 
portions, each of which would be sufficient to fill an archangel 
to overflowing, there would be an infinite number of those por- 
tions. God^s happiness is not merely a fountain, but an ocean 
without bottom or shore. And this should be a never-failing 
source of consolation to the Christian, when he reflects on all 
the misery in the world, that still happiness predominates ; for 
God is infinitely — infinitely happy. 

" The man who should go round the universe — suppose, if 
you will, that each of the numerous millions of stars known to 
astronomers, is the centre of a system, and that each of these 



EDWARD PAYSON. 397 

innumerable worlds is as populous as our own ; — yet the man 
who should, at one fell stroke, fill all these countless myriads of 
beings to the very brim of wretchedness, would do infinitely 
less mischief, than he who should, if that were possible, destroy 
the happiness of Jehovah. In the first instance, it would be 
but poisoning the streams ; in the latter, the fountain itself would 
be turned into bitterness. * * * ^ 

'' Thus we have proved that God is worth infinitely more 
than all his creatures. But, instead of acknowledging and feel- 
ing this, men practically exalt themselves ten thousand times 
above God. They think ten thousand times as much of them- 
selves as of God : an injury done to themselves affects them ten 
thousand times as much as one done to God ; and Jehovah sees 
himself cast down — down — down from his throne, to make 
room for httle insignificant worms of the dust. And what can 
be worse than this ! Men talk about degrees of wickedness^ 
because some have broken the laws of their country, and others 
have not; but this undervaluing and degrading their Maker is 
what all have done ; and it is not possible to go farther in wick- 
edness. Yes ; this is what I have done, — and I desire to make 
the confession with shame. I have done this ; and you have 
done this, my hearers. In the presence of this much insulted 
God, I must charge it upon you. And I tell you, my hearers, 
if you do not repent of this conduct, God will be obliged to put 
you down — down — down, as low as you have degraded him. 
If ho should not do this, if, out of false pity to one individual, 
he should pardon you without repentance ; that instant, all the 
songs of heaven would stop, and all the happiness of the uni- 
verse would be dried np. Heaven, the habitation of God's 
glory, where myriads of celestial intelligences are contemplating 
his infinite perfections, would become, from a place of perfect 
and unmingled happiness, a scene of unutterable, inconceivable 
misery. ' Jehovah is no longer worthy to be trusted ! Jehovah is 
no longer worthy to be trusted !' would be the universal and pa- 
thetic exclamation. ' We thought there was one Being, and only 
one, on whom we might depend; but even he has failed; and where 
now shall we look for perfection !' But, blessed be God, these 
dreadful imaginings can never be realized, for Jehovah will 
never change." 



398 MEMOIR OF 

In this connexion, we shall introduce a paragraph, commu- 
nicated by a ministering brother, who occupied his pulpit on the 
day in which the interview mentioned took place : — 

*' As an instance of his strong fancy, and of the uses to which 
he applied it, 1 will mention, that, on the last Sabbath in which, 
with great difficulty, he entered the house of God he said to me, 
'I find in my illness, that the power of imagination is unweak- 
ened, and that it is very easy for me to wander into the regions 
of fancy. On the subject of the wisdom of God in the direction 
of mysterious events, and our duty of submission and faith, it 
has occurred to me recently, that our conceptions might be 
assisted by imagining God to take a human form, answering — 
if it were possible — to his infinite nature. What would be its 
dimensions 7 The angel, in the book of Revelation, is repre- 
sented as standing with one foot on the sea, and the other on 
the land, and lifting up his hand to heaven. But, were God in 
a form such as I have supposed, one foot would be on the 
remotest star in one direction of infinite space, and the other 
foot on the remotest star in the opposite direction of the unbound- 
ed expanse ; and should we propose to climb from his feet to the 
glories of his face, — if we had the speed of light, and had been 
travelling from the creation of the world, we should have made 
little progress in our journey. And shall we, then, presumptu- 
ously judge of the ways of this God, and imagine that we could 
manage earthly things more wisely than he? Shall we have 
any doubts as to his unfailing wisdom, and perfect rectitude, 
and infinite goodness V I have not been able to give you hi? 
words, but I have given you his thoughts." 

Of the penetrating and all-absorbing effect of his last public 
ministrations, particularly at the communion table, some feeble 
conception may be formed from an extract furnished by a gen- 
tleman, who, for twelve years, had been only an occasional 
attendant on his ministry. The first paragraph has no special 
reference to this period, but may properly be retained for the 
value of its testimony : — 

" At the sacramental table, especially, did his mind appear to 
be absorbed in the contemplation oi' things unseen and eternal. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 399 

To a candid observer it was manifest, at such seasons, that his 
' fellowship was with the Father, and with his Son, Jesus 
Christ.' I doubt not that I express the feehngs of each member 
of his church, when I say, that often, on these occasions, ho 
seemed to soar to the third heaven ; and by those fervent and 
elevated effusions of thought, with which he always accompa- 
nied his administration of the ordinance, he literally carried the 
minds, if not the hearts, of his hearers with him. His influ- 
ence, in this respect, is associated with my earliest recollections 
of Dr. Payson. In one particular instance, Avhich occurred 
during my boyhood, such was the absorbing influence of his 
eloquence on my own mind ; arising, doubtless, more from lh«^ 
attraction of his fervent zeal, and that creative fancy for which 
he was so remarkably distinguished, than from any special 
regard, on my own part, to the truths he uttered ; that, from 
the commencement of the public services of the afternoon, to the 
close of the sacramental season which succeeded them, it seem- 
ed like a pleasing reverie; and had all the effect of an ocular 
survey of every scene connected with the humiliation and exal- 
tation of the Saviour. So strong was the mental impression 
received, that I can distinctly recollect, not only his text on that 
occasion, — Rev. iv. 3, latter clause, — but also the hymn with 
which the public services were introduced, — H. 25, B. 1, Watts. 
He seemed to have taken his flight from one of the most eleva- 
ted heights of meditation, and to soar in a climax of devotion, 
and sublimity of thought, until faith changed the heavenly 
vision into a reality, and spread all the glories of redemption 
around the consecrated symbols of Christ's death. 

" I had the solemn pleasure, too, of being present at one of 
his last communion seasons with the church on earth. It was 
an aff*ecting, a soul-cheering scene. Its interest was greatly 
enhanced by the nearness in which he seemed to stand to the 
communion of the church triumphant. His body was so emaci- 
ated with long and acute suffering, that it was scarcely able to 
sustain the effort once more imposed upon it ; but his soul, 
raised above its perishing influence, and filled with a joyful 
tranquility, seemed entirely regardless of the weakness of its 
mortal tenement. His right hand and arm were so palsied by 
disease, as to be quite useless; except that, in the act of break- 
ing the bread, when he could not well dispense with it, he placed 



400 MEMOIR OF 

it on the table with the other hand, just as you raise any Hfeless 
Aveight, until it had performed the service required of it. It 
seemed as if he was unwilling, that even the withered hand 
should be found unemployed in the holy work. Truly, thought 
I, there must be a blessed reality in that rehgion, which can thus 
make the soul tranquil and happy, in the constant and rapid 
advances of decay and death ! 

" I have never known Dr. Payson when he seemed more 
abstracted from earth than on this occasion. It was, as he sup- 
posed, and as his church feared, their final interview at that 
table. In all the glowing fervor of devotion, assisted by his 
ever fertile imagination, he contemplated the Saviour as visibly 
present in the midst of them ; and, with his usual eloquence 
and closeness of appeal, he seemed to make each communicant 
feel, that what he imagined was a reality. There was a breath- 
less silence ; and the solemnity of the scene could hardly have 
been surpassed, if, as he expressed it, the Lord Jesus Christ 
were sitting before them ; or addressing to each individual 
member the momentous inquiry, ' Lovest thou me 7' I can say, 
for one, that the terrors of hypocrisy never swelled so fearful, 
and the realities of the judgment-seat never seemed nearer, 
than at that solemn hour. And I trust I and many others were 
then enabled from the heart to pray, with the Psalmist, Search 
me, O God, &c. 

'' From the occasional opportunities I have enjoyed of attend- 
ing on Dr. Payson's administration of that ordinance, I can 
have no doubt that they were to him foretastes of that supper 
of the Lamb, on whose more blessed celebration he so trium- 
phantly entered. And it is an interesting, a momentous ques- 
tion : — 

" Shall we, who sat with him below, 
Commune with him above .'" 

On the first of July, he attended public worship, and, after a 
sermon from his assistant, he rose and addressed his people 
thus : — 

" Ever since I became a minister, it has been my earnest wish 
that I might die of some disease, which would allow me to 
preach a farewell sermon to my people ; but as it is not proba- 



EDWARD PAYSON- 401 

ble that I shall ever be able to do this, I will attempt to say a 
few words now : — it may be the last time that I shall ever ad- 
dress you. This is not merely a presentiment. It is an opinion 
founded on facts, and maintained by physicians acquainted with 
my case, that I shall never behold another spring. 

" And now, standing on the borders of the eternal world, I 
look back on my past ministry, and on the manner in which I 
have performed its duties ; and, O my hearers, if you have not 
performed your duties better than I have mine, wo ! wo ! be to 
you, unless you have an Advocate and Intercessor in heaven. 
We have lived together twenty years, and have spent more 
than a thousand Sabbaths together, and I have given you at 
least two thousand warnings. I am now going to render an 
account how they were given, and you, my hearers, will soon 
have to render an account how they were received. One 
more warning I will give you. Once more, your shepherd, who 
will be yours no longer, entreats you to flee from the wrath 
to come. Oh, let me have the happiness of seeing my dear 
people attending to their eternal interests, that I may not have 
reason to say, I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength 
for nought." 

At the communion table, the same day, he said, — 
'•' Christians seem to expect that their views of Christ, and 
love to him, will increase without their using the proper means. 
They should select some scene in his life, and meditate long 
upon it, and strive to bring the circumstances before their 
minds, and imagine how he thought and felt at the time. At 
first, all will appear confused and indistinct; but let them 
continue to look steadily, and the mists will disappear, and 
their hearts will begin to burn with love to their Saviour. At 
least one scene in Christ's life should be thus reviewed every 
day, if the Christian hopes to find his love to his Redeemer 



His public labors were now nearly over ; but he was daily 
and hourly uttering something to rouse the careless, or for the 
instruction, edification, and comfort of God's children. 

To his daughter, who expressed a wish that labor as certainly 
ensured success in spiritual as in temporal affairs, he said — '• It 
does ; it is just as certain that prayers for spiritual blessings 

VOL. I. 51 



402 MEMOIR OF 

will be answered, whenever God sees best, as that the hus- 
bandman, who sows his seed with proper precaution, will reap. 
The only reason that our endeavors to obtain spiritual bles- 
sings are not oftener attended with success, is, they are not 
made in earnest. Never omit prayer, or any devotional exercise, 
when the stated season for it arrives, because you feel indispo- 
sed to the duty." 

July 12, 13. On both these days. Dr. Payson seemed a little 
revived. He had tried sailing around the harbor, and found it 
beneficial. On repeating the experiment, however, he discovered 
that, though these water excursions were of service to his lungs, 
they increased the paralytic affection — if such it was — in his 
arm, and they were relinquished. 

July 22. Sabbath. To his daughter he said, " There is noth- 
ing in which young converts are more prone to err, than in lay- 
ing too much stress upon their feelings. If they have a com- 
fortable half hour in the morning, it atones for a multitude of 
sins in the course of the day. Christ says, 'if ye love me, keep 
my commandments. ' It would be well for us to pay more at- 
tention to our conduct, and prove the depth of our feeling by our 
obedience." He also advised her to observe some plan with 
regard to reading on the Sabbath. In the morning he recom- 
mended reading the Scriptures exclusively, and afterwards works 
intended to convey information respecting religious subjects. 

July 29. He remarked to some new converts who called, 
that the most important direction he could give them was, to 
spend much time in retired converse with the Scriptures, and 
with God. " If you wished to cherish the remembrance of an 
absent friend, you would read over his letters daily, meditate on 
his acts of kindness to you, and look at any tokens of affection 
which he might have left you. " 

"We are accustomed to suppose that God's feelings towards 
us vary according to our own; that when we are in a lively 
spiritual frame of mind, he regards us with more complacency 
than at other times. This is not the case. The feelings with 
which God regards us do not fluctuate like ours. " 



EDWARD PAYSON. 403 

Aug. 5. Sabbath. This day, he entered the meeting-house 
for the last time ; ^nd this month completes twenty years, since 
he entered it, the first time as a preacher — then a trembUng 
youth, now the spiritual father of many hundreds; then just 
girded for the warfare, now the veteran, who had '' fought the 
good fight, " and was just going to resign his commission, and 
receive a crown of unfading glory. He made a great eff'ort to 
go out, as there were twenty-one persons to be admitted to the 
church. He was supported into the house by his senior deacons ; 
and, although he merely read the covenant, and remained dur- 
ing the administration of the sacrament, he was exceedingly 
overcome. Most of the persons present were much affected^ 
and, after the services, many crowded around him, to take his 
hand for the last time. 

Aug. 8. He had a violent nervous head-ache ; and was much 
interrupted in speaking by a difficulty of breathing; but said, in 
a cheerful voice, to some of his church who were in, "I want 
you always to believe that God is faithful. However dark and 
mysterious any of his dispensations may appear, still confide in 
him. He can make you happy when every thing else is taken 
from you. " He baptized several children at his own house, but 
the exertion was too much for him. 

Aug. 13, He received from a society of young men in his 
parish, who were associated for religious improvement, a letter, 
in which they generously offered to give his son a liberal edu- 
cation. The following is his answer : — 



"Beloved brethren: — No act of kindness which it was in 
the power of man to show, could have been more soothing to 
my anxieties as a dying parent, or more grateful to a dying 
minister, than your unexpected and most generous offer to fur- 
nish the means of a liberal education to my oldest son. 

''Most fervently do I thank you for making this offer, and the 
Author of all good for inducing you to do it. To see him thus 
already beginning to take care of a family, which I must soon 
leave, is a great encouragement to my faith, that he will contin- 
ue to take care of them after I am gone. 



404 MEMOIR OF 

"If it is any satisfaction to you to know that you have assist- 
ed to smooth your pastor's dying pillow, and shed light on his 
last hours, you may feel that satisfaction in a very high degree. 
With most earnest prayers that God would reward you abund- 
antly for this kind offer, I have concluded to accept it, provided 
that my son, when he shall have attained the age of sixteen, 
shall be found to possess such a character as will justify a hope 
that he will make a good use of the advantages with which you 
generously furnish him. And now, brethren, farewell." 

During this month, his ''wreck of being" was further shat- 
tered by a spasmodic cough, which at times threatened absolute 
strangulation. 

Sept. 4. He said to his wife and daughter — "' I do not think 
you are sufficiently thankful for my consolations, or realize how 
wonderful it is that I am thus supported Owing to my natural 
activity, and unwillingness to be dependent on others for the 
supply of my wants, these trials are exactly those which are 
most calculated to make me miserable. But God can sweeten 
the bitterest cup. " 

He afterwards said with emotions which would hardly allow 
him to speak, — '' Oh, my daughter, how you will regret, when 
you come to see how good God is, that you did not serve liim 
better. Oh! he is so good, so good." 

Sept. 9. During the preceding week, he had rode out several 
times, being carried down stairs, and lifted into the chaise. For 
a few days he thought himself better; but these favorable ap- 
pearances were of short duration. He remarked, that sometimes, 
in order to try his people's faith, God gives them a prospect 
that an affliction is about to be removed, and then peraiits it to 
return again. He compared his present case to that of a man, 
who, after having been a long time confined in prison, finds his 
door open one morning; but, on attempting to leave it, the door 
is suddenly closed with such violence, as to throw him prostrate 
on the floor. 

He was asked, on this day, by some of his friends, if he could 



[ 



EDWARD PAYSON. 405 

see any particular reason for this dispensation. "No," replied 
he; "but I am as well satisfied as if I could see ten thousand. 
God's will is the very perfection of all reason. " 

In answer to the question, by a lady from B., Are you better 
than you were? he replied, "Not in body, but in mind. If my 
happiness continues to increase, I cannot support it much longer." 
On being asked. Are your views of heaven clearer and brighter 
than ever before? he said, — "Why, for a few moments, I may 
have had as bright; but formerly my joys were tumultuous, now 
all is calm and peaceful." He was asked, "In your anticipa- 
tions of heaven, do you think of meeting departed friends?" 
After a moment's reflection, he said, with a most expressive 
countenance, "If I meet Christ, 'tis no matter whether I see 
others or not — though I shall want some to help me praise him." 
He doubtless had an opinion on this subject ; but he remembered 
Christ's answer to the question, "Are there few that be saved? '^ 

"God deals strangely with his creatures, to promote their hap- 
piness. Who would have thought that I must be reduced to 
this state, helpless and crippled, to experience the highest en- 
joyment!" 

" You ought to feel happy, all ought to feel happy, who come 
here, for they are within a few steps of heaven." During the 
course of this conversation, he repeated this verse, "Thy sun 
shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself ; 
for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy 
mourning shall be ended. " Turning to a young lady present, 
he said, " Do you not think this is worth travelling over many 
high hills and difficult places to obtain?'^ "Give my love to 
my friends in Boston ; tell them all I ever said in praise of God 
or religion falls infinitely below the truth. " 

" Dr. Clarke, in his travels, speaking of the companies that 
were travelling from the East to Jerusalem, represents the pro- 
cession as being very long; and, after climbing over the extend- 
ed and heavy ranges of hills that bounded the way, some of the 
foremost at length reached the top of the last hill, and, stretch- 
ing up their hands in gestures of joy, cried out, " The Holy City ! 



406 MEMOIR or 

the Holy City ! " — and fell down and worshipped ; while those 
who were behind pressed forward to see. So the dying Chris- 
tian, when he gets on the last summit of life, and stretches his 
vision to catch a glimpse of the heavenly city, may cry out of 
its glories, and incite those who are behind to press forward to 
the sight." 

To a clergyman — "Oh, if ministers only saw the inconceiv- 
able glory that is before them, and the preciousness of Christ, 
they would not be able to refrain from going about, leaping and 
clapping their hands for joy, and exclaiming, I'm a minister of 
Christ ! I'm a minister of Christ ! " 

•• When I read Bunyan's description of the land of Beulah, 
where the sun shines and the birds sing day and night, I used 
to doubt whether there was such a place ; but now my own 
experience has convinced me of it, and it infinitely transcends 
all my previous conceptions. " 

"I think the happiness I enjoy is similar to that enjoyed by 
glorified spirits before the resurrection. " 

Sept. 16. Sabbath. He awaked exclaiming, "I am going 
to mount Zion, to the city of the living God, to the heavenly 
Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general 
assembly and church of the first born, and to God the Judge ot 
all. " 

During the night of September 17th, he was seized with 
spasms, which, it seemed, must separate soul and body. It was 
not thought by his physician, that he could survive a second 
attack ; but his hold on life remained, though the spasms con- 
tinued to return every succeeding night with more or less 
violence. Every new attack seemed, however, to strengthen the 
energies of his mind. ^ No better evidence of this can be 
desired, than is exhibited in a letter which he dictated to his 
sister : — 

*' Sept. 19. 

"Dear sister: — Were I to adopt the figurative language of 

*" The soul's dark cottage, shattered and decayed, 
Let in new light through chinks which time had made." 



I 



EDWARD PAYSON. 40T 

Bunyan, I might date this letter from the land of Beulah, of 
which I have been for some weeks a happy inhabitant. Tlie 
celestial city is full in my view. Its glories beam upon me, its 
breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike 
upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing 
separates me from it but the river of death, which now appears 
but as an insignificant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, 
whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of Righteous- 
ness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing 
larger and brighter as he approached, and now he fills the 
whole hemisphere ; pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I 
seem to float like an insect in the beams of the sun ; exulting, 
yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, 
and wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should 
deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm. A single heart and a 
single tongue seem altogether inadequate to my Avants ; I want 
a whole heart for every separate emotion, and a whole tongue 
to express that emotion. 

'' But why do I speak thus of myself and my feelings ? why 
not speak only of our God and Redeemer 7 It is because I 
know not what to say. When I would speak of them, ray 
words are all swallowed up. I can only tell you what effects 
their presence produces, and even of these I can tell you but 
very little. O, my sister, my sister ! could you but know what 
awaits the Christian ; could you know only so much as I know, 
you could not refrain from rejoicing, and even leaping for joy. 
Labors, trials, troubles, would be nothing ; you would rejoice 
in afflictions, and glory in tribulations ; and, like Paul and Silas, 
sing God's praises in the darkest night, and in the deepest dun- 
geon. You have known a little of my trials and conflicts, and 
know that they have been neither few nor small ; and I hope 
this glorious termination of them will serve to strengthen your 
faith, and elevate you hope. 

"And now, my dear, dear sister, farewell. Hold on your 
Christian course but a few days longer, and you will meet in 
heaven, 

"Your happy and affectionate brother, 

" Edward Payson." 

The next day, he sent for the editor of a religious journal, 



408 MEMOIR OF 

and expressed his wishes in regard to the disposition which 
should be made of a certain class of elfusions, which his exit 
would probably call forth — adding, 'I make this request about 
as much for your sake as my own.' He had then survived 
three or four of these dreadful nocturnal attacks, but observed 
that he could not calculate upon surviving another. In answer 
to the question, why he was thus affected in the night, rather 
than the day, — he proceeded, with as much readiness as if it 
had been the study of his hfe, to give a philosophical account 
of the change which takes place in the body, in its transit 
from a state of wakefulness to that of sleep. " Then," said 
he, — that is, as soon as the will resigns its power over the mus- 
cles and organs of the body — " then my diseases commence 
their gambols." 

To his daughter, who was obliged to defer a contemplated 
undertaking by an approaching storm, he turned, and said with 
a smile — " I suppose you feel as if the equinox ought to be de- 
ferred on account of your school." 

Sept. 21. " O, what a blessed thing it is to lose one's will ! 
Since I have lost my will, I have found happiness. There can 
be no such thing as disappointment to me, for I have no desires 
but that God's will may be accomplished." 

"I have been all my life like a child whose father wishes to 
fix his undivided attention. At first, the child runs about the 
room, — but his father ties up his feet ; he then plays with his 
hands, until they likewise are tied. Thus he continues to do, 
till he is completely tied up ; then, when he can do nothing 
else, he will attend to his father. Just so God has been dealing 
with me, to induce me to place my happiness in him alone. 
But I blindly continued to look for it here, and God has kept 
cutting off one source of enjoyment after another, till I find that 
I can do without them all, and yet enjoy more happiness than 
ever in my life before." 

" It sounds flat, when people tell me that it is just for God 
to afflict me, as if justice did not require infinitely more." 

He was asked, *' Do you feel reconciled 7" — " O ! that is too 



EDWARD PAYSON. 409 

cold. I rejoice, I triumph ! and this happiness will endure as 
long as God himself, for it consists in admiring and adoring 
him." 

" I can find no words to express my happiness. I seem to be 
swimming in a river of pleasure, which is carrying me on to 
the great fountain." 

Sabbath morning, Sept. 23, he said, — " Last night I had a 
full, clear view of Death as the king of terrors ; how he comes 
and crowds the poor sinner to the very verge of the precipice of 
destruction, and then pushes him down headlong ! But I felt 
that I had nothing to do with this ; and I loved to sit like an 
infant at the feet of Christ, who saved me from this fate. I felt 
that death was disarmed of all its terrors ; all he could do would 
be to touch me, and let my soul loose to go to my Saviour." 

" Christians are like passengers setting out together in a ship 
for some distant country. Very frequently one drops overboard ; 
but his companions know that he has only gone a shorter way 
to the same port ; and that, when they arrive there, they shall 
find him ; so that all they lose is his company during the rest 
of the voyage." 

" I long to measure out a full cup of happiness to every 
body, but Christ wisely keeps that prerogative in his own 
hands." 

" It seems as if all the bottles of heaven were opened ; and 
all its fulness and happiness, and I trust, no small portion of its 
benevolence, is come down into my heart." 

''I am more and more convinced, that the happiness of 
heaven is a benevolent happiness. In proportion as my joy 
has increased, I have been filled with intense love to all crea- 
tures, and a strong desire that they may partake of my hap- 
piness." 

Sept. 26. In answer to some complaints of one of the fami- 
ly, he said — "Perhaps there is nothing more trying to the 
VOL. I. 52 



410 MEMOIR OF 

faith and patience of Christians, or which appears to them more 
mysterious, than the small supplies of grace which they receive, 
and the delays which they meet with in having their prayers 
answered ; so that they are sometimes ready to say, It is in vain 
to wait upon the Lord any longer. He then mentioned the 
text, ' Wherefore gird up the loins of your minds, be sober, and 
hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at 
the revelation of Jesus Christ.' A large portion of the grace 
which Christians are to receive will be given to them at the 
second coming of Christ, or immediately after death ; and this 
will always be in proportion to their prayers and exertions here. 
Christians need not, therefore, be discouraged at the slow pro- 
gress they make, and the little success which attends their 
efforts ; for they may be assured that every exertion is noticed, 
and w411 be rewarded, by their heavenly Father." 

To a young convert he said, — " You will have to go through 
many conflicts and trials ; you must be put in the furnace, and 
tempted, and tried, in order to show you what is in your heart. 
Sometimes it will seem as if Satan had you in his power, and 
that the more you struggle and pray agamst sin, the more it 
prevails against you. But when you are thus tried and de- 
sponding, remember me ; I have gone through all this, and now 
you see the end." 

To another — " You recollect the story of David rescuing the 
lamb from the lion and the bear. David loved the lamb before 
he rescued it from danger ; but he loved it more afterwards. So 
Christ loves all his creatures; but he loves them more after he 
has taken them into his fold, and owned them as the purchase 
of his precious blood." 

*' Christians might avoid much trouble and inconvenience, if 
they would only believe what they profess, — that God is able 
to make them happy without any thing else. They imagine 
that if such a dear friend were to die, or such and such blessings 
to be removed, they should be miserable ; whereas God can 
make them a thousand times happier without them. To men- 
tion my own case, — God has been depriving me of one blessing 
after another ; but as every one was removed, he has come in 



EDWARD PAYSON. 411 

and filled up its place ; and now, when I am a cripple, and not 
able to move, I am happier than ever I was in my life before, or 
ever expected to be, and, if I had believed this twenty years 
ago, I might have been spared much anxiety.'' 

" If God had told me some time ago, that he was about to 
make me as happy as I could be in this world, and then had 
told me that he should begin by crippling me in all my limbs, 
and removing me from all my usual sources of enjoyment ; I 
should have thought it a very strange mode of accomplishing 
his purpose. And yet, how is his wisdom manifest even in 
this ! for if you should see a man shut up in a close room, idol- 
izing a set of lamps, and rejoicing in their light, and you wish- 
ed to make him truly happy, you would begin by blowing out 
all his lamps ; and then throw open the shutters, to let in the 
light of heaven.'' 

'' Suppose a son is walking with his father, in whose wisdom 
he places the most entire confidence. He follows wherever his 
father leads, though it may be through thorns and briars, 
cheerfully and contentedly. Another son, we will suppose, 
distrusts his father's wisdom and love, and, when the path is 
rough or uneven, begins to murmur and repine, wishing that 
he might be allowed to choose his own path ; and though he 
is obliged to follow, it is with great reluctance and discontent. 
Now, the reason that Christians in general do not enjoy more 
of God's presence, is, that they are not willing to walk in his 
path, when it crosses their own inclinations. But we shall 
never be happy, until we acquiesce with perfect cheerfulness 
in all his decisions, and follow wherever he leads without a 



After it had become certain that he would never again leave 
his chamber till he was carried out, yet, being unceasingly de- 
sirous to benefit his people, he sent a request, which was an- 
nounced from the pulpit, that they would repair to his chamber. 
Once, it is believed, they came indiscriminately ; at other times 
in specified classes, including as many as the chamber could con- 
tain. When he had addressed to them collectively his last most 
solemn and affectionate counsel, till compelled to desist by the 



412 MEMOIR OF 

failure of his strength, he took them individually by the hand, 
and, with a heavenly smile, bade them farewell ! 

To members of his congregation, he spoke nearly as fol- 
lows : — 

*' It has often been remarked, that people who have been in- 
to the other world, cannot come back to tell us what they have 
seen ; but I am so near the eternal world, that I can see almost 
as clearly as if I were there ; and I see enough to satisfy my- 
self, at least, of the truth of the doctrines which I have preach- 
ed. I do not know that I should feel at all surer, had I been 
really there. 

" It is always interesting to see others in a situation in which 
we know that we must shortly be placed ourselves ; and we 
all know that we must die. And to see a poor creature, when, 
after an alternation of hopes and fears, he finds that his disease 
is mortal, and death comes to tear him away from every thing 
he loves, and crowds, and crowds him to the very verge of the 
precipice of destruction, and then thrusts him down headlong ! 
There he is, cast into an unknown world ; no friend, no Saviour 
to receive him. 

" O, how different is this from the state of a man who is pre- 
pared to die. He is not obliged to be crowded reluctantly along ; 
but the other world comes like a great magnet, to draw him 
away from this ; and he knows that he is going to enjoy, — and 
not only knows, but begins to taste it, — perfect happiness; for- 
ever and ever ; forever and ever ! =^ * ^ * 

" And now God is in this room ; I see him ; and O, how 
unspeakably lovely and glorious does he appear, — worthy of 
ten thousand thousand hearts, if we had them. He is here, 
and hears me pleading with the creatures that he has made, 
whom he preserves, and loads with blessings, to love him. And 
O, how terrible does it appear to me, to sin against this God j 
to set up our wills in opposition to his, and, when we awake in 
the morning, instead of thinking, ' What shall I do to please 
my God to-day 7' to inquire, ' What shall I do to please myself 
to-day V " After a short pause he continued, " It makes my 
blood run cold to think how inexpressibly miserable I should 
now be without religion. To lie here, and see myself tottering 
on the verge of destruction ! — O. I should be distracted ! And 



EDWARD PAYSON. 413 

when I see my fellow-creatures liable every moment to be redu- 
ced to this situation, I am in an agony for them, that they may 
escape their danger before it be too late. When people repent, 
they begin to see God's infinite perfections, how amiable and 
glorious he is, and the heart relents and mourns that it has 
treated him so ungratefully. 

" Suppose we should hear the sound of a man's voice plead- 
ing earnestly with some one, but could not distinguish the 
words ; and we should inquire, ' What is that man pleading 
for so earnestly?' 'O, he is only pleading with a fellow crea- 
ture to love his God, his Saviour, his Preserver and Benefactor. 
He is only pleading with him not to throw away his immortal 
soul, not to pull down everlasting wretchedness upon his own 
head. He is only persuading him to avoid eternal misery, and 
accept eternal happiness.' ' Is it possible,' we should exclaim, 
' that any persuasion can be necessary for this?' and yet it 
is necessary. O my friends, do, do love this glorious Being- 
do seek for the salvation of your immortal souls. Hear the 
voice of your dying minister, while he entreats you to care for 
your souls." 

He afterwards said, — ''I am always sorry when I say any 
thing to any one who comes in ; it seems so inadequate to what 
I wish to express. The words sink right down under the weight 
of the meaning I wish to convey." 

On another occasion, — "I find no satisfaction in looking 
at any thing I have done ; I want to leave all this behind, 
— it is nothing, — and fly to Christ to be clothed in his righte- 



Again, — " I have done nothing myself. I have not fought, 
but Christ has fought for me ; I have not run, but Christ has 
tarried me; I have not worked, but Christ has wrought in me; 
Christ has done all." 

The perfections of God were to him a well-spring of joy, and 
the promises were " breasts of consolation," whence his soul 
drew its comfort and its ahment. " O !" exclaimed he, " the 
loving kindness of God — his loving kindness ! This afternoon, 



414 MEMOIR OF 

while I was meditating on it, the Lord seemed to pass by, and 
proclaim himself ' The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gra- 
cious !' O how gracious ! Try to conceive of that, his loving- 
kindness, as if it were not enough to say kindness, but — loving 
kindness. What must be the loving kindness of God, who is 
himself infinite love ! 

" It seemed this afternoon as if Christ said to me, ' You have 
often wondered and been impatient at the way by which I have 
led you ; but what do you think of it now?' And I was cut to 
the heart, when I looked back and saw the wisdom and goodness 
by which I had been guided, that I could ever for a moment 
distrust his love." 

A clergyman from another state, who visited Dr. Payson 
about this stage of his illness, gave the following account of the 
interview in a letter to a friend : — 

"His eye beams with the same animation as ever. The 
muscles of his face are unaffected by that which has spread all 
but death throughout the other parts of his system. When I 
entered the chamber, addressing me with a smile, he said, ' I 
have no hand to welcome you with, but I am glad to see you.' 
I observed to him, that I was reluctant tb lay any tax upon him 
in his present weak state, but had felt desirous to see him a 
moment. He replied that he did not feel parsimonious of the 
poor remains of strength he had left : he had got so near 
through, that it was not worth while to be solicitous about 
saving for future time. He conversed in a low, audible voice, 
and in the same strain of pointed, pithy remark as when in 
liealth. He observed, that the point in which he believed min- 
isters generally failed most, and in which he had certainly failed 
most, was in doing duty professionally, and not from the heart. 
I could not but say to him, that, probably, his practice had been 
marked with less of this error than that of most others. Ho 
seemed pained with the thought that any should be more defi- 
cient than he had been : ' O, I hope it is not so ! I hope it is 
not so !' Referring to the peace which the gospel afforded him 
under his trials, he said, ' I have never half valued, as I ought, 
the doctrines which I have preached. The system is great and 



EDWARD PAYSON. 415 

glorious, and is worthy of our utmost efforts to promote it. 
The interests depending will justify us in our strongest meas- 
ures. In every respect we may embark our all upon it ; it will 
sustain us." 

******* 

" Speaking of the temper requisite to the right discharge of 
ministerial duty, he said, ' I never was fit to say a word to a 
smner, except when I had a broken heart myself; when I was 
subdued and melted into penitence, and felt as though I had 
just received pardon to my own soul, and when my heart was 
full of tenderness and pity — no anger, no anger.' He expressed 
himself with great earnestness respecting the grace of God as 
exercised in saving lost men, and seemed particularly affected 
that it should be bestowed on one so ill deserving as himself 
" O how sovereign ! O how sovereign ! Grace is the only 
thing that can make us like God. I might be dragged through 
heaven, earth and hell, and I should be still the same sinful, 
polluted wretch, unless God himself should renew and cleanse 
me.' He inquired whether I could preach to his people on the 
morrow. Being told that I was not well, he replied, 'Then do 
not preach; I have too often preached when I was not able.' 

*'0n taking leave, I expressed a hope that he might continue 
to enjoy the presence of God, and receive even increasing 
peace if he could bear it. 'Oh!' said he, 'when we meet in 
heaven, we shall see how little we know about it.' His 
whole manner and appearance is that of a man who has drunk 
into the spirit of heaven far more deeply than those around 
him." 

Oct. 7. In conversation with his eldest daughter, on being 
asked whether self-examination was not a very difficult duty 
for young Christians to perform, he replied, "Yes; and for oH 
ones too, because it is displeasing to the pride of the heart, 
because wandering thoughts are then most apt to intrude, and 
because of the deceitfulness of the heart. When a Christian 
first begins to look into his heart, he sees nothing but confusion; 
a heap of sins and a very little good, mixed up together ; and he 
knows not how to separate them, or how to begin self-examina- 
tion. But let him persevere in his efforts, and soon order will 
arise out of confusion." She mentioned to him a passage in the 



416 M E M O I R o r 

life of Mr. Alleine, which led him to say, " We never confess 
any faults that we consider really disgraceful. We complain of 
our hardness of heart, stupidity, &c. ; but we never confess 
envy or covetousness, or revenge, or any thing that we suppose 
will lower us in the opinion of others; and this proves that we 
do not feel ashamed of coldness or stupidity. In short, when 
young Christians make confessions, unless there is an obvious 
call for them, it usually proceeds from one of these three mo- 
tives ; — either they wish to be thought very humble, and to pos- 
sess great knowledge of their own hearts ; or they think it is a 
fault which the other has perceived, and are willing to have the 
credit of having discovered and striven against it ; or they con- 
fess some fault, from which they are remarkably free, in order 
to elicit a compliment. 

'' There are no two feelings apparently more unlike than mor- 
tified pride and gratified pride : yet they are in reality very 
similar ; and we are indulging one of these feelings almost con- 
stantly. When God permits every thing to go on very smooth- 
ly, and grants us some comforts, our pride is gratified ; we are 
pleased with ourselves, with God,— -and call the feeling grati- 
tude, — and with those around us; we can be very pleasant 
and obliging. But let this state of things be reversed ; let our 
corruptions be suffered to break loose, and trials and conflicts to 
assail us, — then our pride is mortified; we begin to fret and 
repine, and say that all our endeavors are useless. You cannot 
yet conceive how very small a portion of grace we have ; so 
that, if we doubt whether matter is infinitely divisible, we can 
hardly doubt that grace is so. 

" With regard to self-examination, we should always have, 
as it were, our eye turned inward, to watch our motives and 
feelings. We should also, at night, review the conduct of the 
day ; and it would aid you to do this, if you made an abstract 
of the duties you owe to God and to your fellow-creatures in the 
several relations of life, and also of your besetting sins. But the 
most important direction I can give you, is, to look to Christ ; 
for while we are contemplating his perfections, we insensibly 
imbibe his spirit." 

Notwithstanding his deep seriousness, there was occasionally 
a pleasantry in his manner of expressing himself, which would 



\ 



EDWARD PAYSON. 417 

excite an involuntary smile : — " What contrary and unreasona- 
ble creatures we are ! The more God does for us, the less we 
thank him. Here I am, stripped of more than half my bles- 
sings, as we ordinarily estimate them, and yet 1 never felt half 
so grateful to God before. We are just like the harlequin, when 
hired to mourn, of whom his employer said, ' The better I pay 
him, the more he won't grieve !' " 

A gray-headed member of his church, who is usually very 
abrupt in his address, but generally very scriptural, entered his 
chamber one day with the salutation — '* Watchman, what of 
the night?" — " I should think it was about noon-day " — was 
the answer. 

On Sabbath day, Oct 7,* it was the privileged lot of the 
young men of the society to assemble, at his request, in his 
chamber, when he addressed them in substance as follows: — 

" My young friends, you will all one day be obliged to em- 
bark on the same voyage, on which I am just embarking ; and 
as it has been my especial employment, during my past life, to 
recommend to you a Pilot to guide you through this voyage, I 
wished to tell you what a precious Pilot he is, that you may be 
induced to choose him for yours. I felt desirous that you might 
see that the religion I have preached can support me in death. 
You know that I have many ties which bind me to earth ; a 
family to whom I am strongly attached, and a people whom I 
love almost as well: but the other world acts like a much 
stronger magnet, and draws my heart away from this. Death 
comes every night, and stands by my bedside in the form of ter- 
rible convulsions, every one of which threatens to separate the 
soul from the body. These continue to grow worse and worse. 
until every bone is almost dislocated with pain, leaving me with 
the certainty that I shall have it all to endure again the next 
night. Yet, while my body is thus tortured, the soul is perfect- 
ly, perfectly happy and peaceful — more happy than I can pos- 
sibly express to you. I lie here, and feel these convulsions 

* The dates in this chapter fix the time to which a part only of his obser- 
vations must be referred ; generally the first, or first two or three paragraphs 
which follow them. The precise date of most of them is not recollected. 
VOL. I. 53 



418 MEMOIR OF 

extending higher and higher, without the least uneasiness ; but 
my soul is filled with joy unspeakable. I seem to swim in a 
flood of glory which God pours down upon me. And I know, 
I know^ that my happiness is but begun ; I cannot doubt that it 
will last forever. And now is this all a delusion 7 Is it a de- 
lusion which can fill the soul to overflowing with joy in such 
circumstances ? If so, it is surely a delusion better than any 
reality. But no, it is not a delusion ; I feel that it is not. I do 
not merely know that I shall enjoy all this — I enjoy it now. 

"My young friends, — ^were I master of the whole world, 
what could it do for me like this 7 Were all its wealth at my 
feet, and all its inhabitants striving to make me happy, what 
could they do for me 7 Nothing ! — nothing ! Now, all this hap- 
piness I trace back to the religion which I have preached, and 
to the time when that great change took place in my heart, 
which I have often told you is necessary to salvation ; and I 
now tell you again, that without this change, you cannot, no, 
you cannot, see the kingdom of God. 

" And now, standing, as I do, on the ridge which separates 
the two worlds, feeling what intense happiness or misery the 
soul is capable of sustaining ; judging of your capacities by my 
own, and believing that those capacities will be filled to the very 
brim with jo^^- or wretchedness forever ; can it be wondered at, 
that my heart yearns over you, my children, that you may 
choose life, and not death 7 Is it to be wondered at, that I long 
to present every one of you with a full cup of happiness, and 
see you drink it ; that I long to have you make the same choice 
which I made, and from which springs all my happiness 7 

'•'A young man, just about to leave this world, exclaimed, 
' The battle's fought ! the battle's fought ! the battle's fought ! 
but the victory is lost forever.' But I can say, The battle's 
fought, and the victory is won ! the victory is won, forever ! I 
am going to bathe in an ocean of purity, and benevolence, and 
happiness, to all eternity. And now, my children, let me bless 
you ; not with the blessing of a poor, feeble, dying man, but 
with the blessing of the infinite God. The grace of God, and 
the love of Christ, and the communion of the Holy Ghost, be 
with all, and each one of you, forever and ever : amen." 

Having delivered his dying messages to all classes among his 



EDWARD PAY SON. 419 

own flock, he commissioned a ministering brother to hear one 
to the association of ministers, who were to meet in a few days. 
The purport of it was — ' a hearty assurance of the ardent love 
with which he remembered them even in death ; an exhorta- 
tion to love one another with a pure heart fervently; to love 
their work, to be dihgent in it, to expect success, to bear up 
under their discouragements, be faithful unto death, and look 
for their reward in heaven.' — I rejoice, said the brother, rejoice 
more than I can express, to be the bearer of such a message ; 
for you, perhaps, are aware that many of your brethren have 
thought you distant, and reserved, and as having cherished too 
little of a fellow-feeling towards them. "I know it," said he ; 
" but my apparent reserve was not owing to any want of af- 
fection for them, but to a very different cause : I have been all 
my days, like a soldier in the forefront of the hottest battle, so 
intent in fighting for my own life, that I could not see who was 
falling around me." 

While speaking of the rapturous views he had of the heavenly 
world, he was asked if it did not seem almost like the clear 
light of vision, rather than that of faith. '• Oh !" he replied, 
'' I don't know — it is too much for the poor eyes of my soul to 
bear! they are almost blinded with the excessive brightness. 
All I want is to be a mirror, to reflect some of those rays 
to those around me." 

^- My soul, instead of growing weaker and more languishing, 
as my body does, seems to be endued with an angel's energies, 
and to be ready to break from the body, and join those around 
the throne." 

A friend with whom he had been conversing on his extreme 
bodily sufferings, and his high spiritual joys, remarked — " I 
presume it is no longer incredible to you, if ever it was, that 
martyrs should rejoice and praise God in the flames and on the 
rack." " No," said he, '* I can easily believe it. I have suffer- 
ed twenty times — yes, to speak within bounds — twenty times 
as much as I could in being burnt at the stake, while my joy in 
God so abounded, as to render my sufferings not only tolerable, 
but welcome. The sufferings of this present time are not wor- 
thy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed." 



420 MEMOIR OF 

At another time, — "God is literally now my all in all 
While he is present with me, no event can in the least dimin- 
ish my happiness ; and were the whole world at my feet trying 
to minister to my comfort, they could not add one drop to the 
cup." 

*' It seems as if the promise, 'Ood shall wipe away all tears 
from their eyes,' was already fulfilled to me, as it respects tears 
of sorrow. I have no tears to shed now, but those of love, and 
joy, and thankfulness." 

Oct. 16. To his daughter, — "You will avoid much pain 
and anxiety, if you will learn to trust all your concerns in God's 
hand. ' Cast all your care upon him, for he careth for you.' 
But if you merely go and say that you cast your care upon 
him, you will come away with the load on your shoulders. If 
I had the entire disposal of your situation, and could decide 
how many scholars you should have, and what success you 
should meet with, you would feel no anxiety, but would rely on 
my love and wisdom ; and if you should discover any solici- 
tude, it would show that you distrusted one or the other of 
these. Now all your concerns are in the hands of a merciful 
and wise Father ; therefore, it is an insult to him to be careful 
and anxious concerning them. Trust him for all, — abihties, 
success, and every thing else, — and you will never have reason 
to repent it." 

At one time, he was heard to break forth in the following so- 
liloquy : — 

" What an assemblage of motives to holiness does the gospel 
present! I am a Christian — what then? Why, lam a re- 
deemed sinner — a pardoned rebel — all through grace, and by 
the most wonderful means which infinite wisdom could devise. 
I am a Christian — what then 7 Why, I am a temple of God, 
and surely I ought to be pure and holy. I am a Christian ^ 
what then 7 I am a child of God, and ought to be filled with 
filial love, reverence, joy, and gratitude. I am a Christian, 
what then 7 Why, I am a disciple of Christ, and must imitate 



EDWARD PAYSON. 421 

him who was meek and lowly in heart, and pleased not him- 
self. I am a Christian — what then? Why, I am an heir of 
heaven, and hastening on to the abodes of the blessed, to join 
the full choir of glorified ones, in singing the song of Moses and 
the Lamb ; and surely I ought to learn that song on earth." 

To Mrs. Payson, who, while ministering to him, had observ- 
ed, '' Your head feels hot, and seems to be distended," he re- 
plied — "It seems as if the soul disdained such a narrow 
prison, and was determined to break through with an angel's 
energy, and, I trust, with no small portion of an angel's feeling, 
until it mounts on high." 

Again, — " It seems as if my soul had found a pair of new 
Avings, and was so eager to try them, that, in her fluttering, she 
Avould rend the fine net- work of the body to pieces." 

At another time, — " My dear, I should think it might encour- 
age and strengthen you, under whatever trials you may be call- 
ed to endure, to remember me. O ! you must believe that it 
will be great peace at last." 

At another time, he said to her, — " After I am gone, you wiH 
find many little streams of beneficence pouring in upon you, 
and you will perhaps say, ' I wish my dear husband were here 
to know this.' My dear, you may think that I do know it by 
anticipation, and praise God for it now." 

" Hitherto I have viewed God as a fixed Star, bright indeed, 
but often intercepted by clouds ; but now he is coming nearer 
and nearer, and spreads into a Sun so vast and glorious, that 
the sight is too dazzling lor flesh and blood to sustain." This 
was not a blind adoration of an imaginary deity ; for, add6d 
he, "I see clearly that all these same glorious and dazzling 
perfections, which now only serve to kindle my affections into 
a flame, and to melt down my soul into the same blessed image, 
would burn and scorch me like a consuming fire, if I were an 
impenitent sinner." 

He said he felt no solicitude respecting his family ; he could 



422 MEMOIR OF 

trust them all in the hands of Christ. To feel any undue so- 
licitude on their account, or to be willing to leave them with 
God, would be like "a child who was reluctant to go to school, 
lest his father should burn up his toys and play-things, while he 
was absent." 

Conversing with a friend on his preparation for his departure, 
he compared himself to " a person who had been visiting his 
friends, and was about to return home. His trunk was packed, 
and every thing prepared, and he was looking out of the win- 
dow, waiting for the stage to take him in." 

When speaking of the sufferings he endured, particularly the 
sensation of burning in his side and left leg, he said that, if he 
expected to live long enough to make it worth while, he would 
have his leg taken off. On Mrs. Pay son's uttering some ex- 
pression of surprise, he replied — '' I have not a very slight idea 
of the pain of amputation ; yet I have no doubt that I suffer 
more every fifteen minutes, than I should in having my leg 
taken off." 

His youngest child, about a year old, had been under the care 
of a friend, and was to be removed a few miles out of town ; 
but he expressed so strong a wish to see Charles first, that he 
was sent for. The look of love, and tendernesss, and compas- 
sion, with which he regarded the child, made an indelible im- 
pression on all present. 

At his request, some of the choir, belonging to the congrega- 
tion, came a few days before his death, for the purpose of sing- 
ing, for his gratification, some of the songs of Zion. He 
selected the one commencing, ^' Rise, my soul, and stretch thy 
wings ;" part of the hymn, " I'll praise my Maker with my 
breath ;" and the " Dying Christian to his Soul." 

Sabbath day, October 21st, his last agony commenced. This 
holy man, who had habitually said of his racking pains, "These 
are God's arrows, but they are all sharpened with love" — and 
who, in the extremity of suffering, had been accustomed to re- 
peat, as a favorite expression, "I will bless the Lord at all times, '* 



EDWARD PAYSON. 423 

— had yet the ''dyhig strife" to encounter. It commenced with 
the same difficulty of respiration, though in an aggravated de- 
gree, which had caused him great distress at intervals, during 
his sickness. His daughter, who had gone to the Sabhath school, 
without any apprehension of so sudden a change, was called 
home. Though laboring for breath, and with a ratthng in the 
throat similar to that which immediately precedes dissolution, he 
smiled upon her, kissed her affectionately, and said — "God bless 
you, my daughter ! " Several of the church were soon collected 
at his bed side; he smiled on them all, but said little, as his 
power of utterance had nearly failed. Once he exclaimed, 
"Peace! peace! Victory! victory!" He looked on his wife 
and children, and said, almost in the words of dying Joseph to 
his brethren — words which he had before spoken of as having 
a peculiar sweetness, and which he now wished to recall to her 
mind — "I am going, but God will surely be with you. " His 
friends watched him, expecting every moment to see him expire, 
till near noon, when his distress partially left him; and he said 
to the physician, who was feeling his pulse, that he found he 
was not to be released yet; and though he had suffered the pangs 
of death, and got almost within the gates of Paradise — yet, if 
it was God's will that he should come back and suffer still more, 
he was resigned. He passed through a similar scene in the af- 
ternoon, and, to the surprise of every one, was again relieved. 
The night following, he suffered less than he had the two pre^ 
ceding. Friday night had been one of inexpressible suffering. 
That, and the last night of his pilgrimage, were the only nights 
in which he had watchers. The friend who attended him 
through his last night, read to him, at his request, the twelfth 
chapter of the second epistle to the Corinthians; parts of which 
must have been peculiarly applicable to his case. 

On Monday morning, his dying agonies returned in all their 
extremity. For three hours, every breath was a groan. On 
being asked if his sufferings were greater than on the preceding 
Friday night, he answered, "Incomparably greater." He said 
that the greatest temporal blessing, of which he could conceive, 
would be one breath of air. Mrs. Payson, fearing, from the 
expression of suffering in his countenance, that he was in mental 
as well as bodily anguish, questioned him on the subject. With 
extreme difficulty he was enabled to articulate the words, "Faith 



424 MEMOIR OF 

and patience hold out. " About mid-day, the pain of respiration 
abaied. and a partial stupor succeeded. Still, however, he con- 
tinued intelligent, and evidently able to recognize all who were 
present. His eyes spoke, after his tongue became motionless. 
He looked on Mrs. Pay son, and then his eye, glancing over the 
others who surrounded his bed, rested on Edward, his eldest 
son, with an expression which said — and which was interpreted 
by all present to say, as plainly as if he had uttered the words 
of the beloved disciple — "Behold thy mother!" There was 
no visible indication of the return of his sufferings. He gradu- 
ally sunk away, till about the going down of the sun, when his 
happy spirit was set at liberty. 

His "ruling passion was strong in death." His love for 
preaching was as invincible as that of the miser for gold, who 
dies grasping his treasure. Dr. Payson directed a label to be 
attached to his breast, with the words — "Remember the words 
which I spake unto you while I was yet present with you; " that 
they might be read by all who came to look at his corpse, and 
by which he, being dead, still spake. The same words, at the 
request of his people, were engraven on the plate of the coffin, 
and read by thousands on the day of interment. 

His funeral sermon was preached by the Rev. Charles Jenkins, 
pastor of the Third Church in Portland, from 2 Timothy, iv. 6, 
7, 8 — "I am now ready to be offered, " &c. "The gates of this 
Zion mourn, " said Mr. Jenkins, in his introductory paragraph • 
* for her watchman sleeps in death. ' He has 'finished his 
course. ' His voice has ceased forever to echo along these con- 
secrated walls. We beheld him descend into the dark valley, 
shining with new and more heavenly lustre. And now, com- 
pletely and forever escaped from the damps and darkness of 
earth and sin, our thoughts delight to follow him amidst the 
glories of that pure world, where, ' they that are wise shine as 
the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness, as the 
stars for ever and ever. ' We have stood gazing at the fiery 
element of outward suffering, in which he was borne away, 
until all has vanished; but we love to linger, that we may catch 
something of that spirit, that made him 'joyful in tribulation,' 
and triumphant in death. The living image of his now uncon- 
scious, but beloved form, is fondly cherished in many a bosom ; 
while purer affections, and livelier faith, behold him wearing a 



' EDWARD PAYSON. 425 

crown of righteousness. It is grateful to recur, in melancholy 
recollections, to the past, and hang again on those lips, which 
are sealed in perpetual silence. More grateful still is it to glance 
forward, on the strong pinions of hope, to a future meeting and 
an eternal union with him, and ' the spirits of the just made 
perfect. " 

After having gone through with the discussion of his subject, 
Mr. Jenkins thus reverted to the occasion: — 

'' Such, my hearers, are the nature, the objects, and the grounds 
of the dying believer's assurance. They are topics which sort 
with the spontaneous reflections of every serious mind, on an 
occasion like the present. They are topics which have just 
been so strikingly exhibited in the last days of our dear departed 
friend, that every thing I have attempted to offer has appeared 
to me scarcely other than the accumulation of "words without 
knowledge. " Had he not interdicted me the privilege, I would 
gladly have let his death-bed speak in this illustration. Instead 
of detaining you with such low views on those lofty themes, I 
would have lifted you up from the low level of our ordinary 
thoughts, by repeating some of those " burning words and breath- 
ing thoughts " that his departed soul expressed. And even now I 
may not be denied the privilege of exalting the grace of God, 
by repeating a few of his expressions, indicating the imture, 
objects, and grounds of assurance, as he stood on the borders of 
two worlds. " 

^ * * * * ^ ^ 

"Surely, he who could utter such language was ready to he 
offered — he had fought a good fight; he had finished his course 
in triumph, and now wears the victor's crown of righteousness. 
His ' witness is in heaven ; his record is on high ; ' and there 
his eternal weight of glory is begun. 

"And what shall I say more? I might speak of his gifted 
intellect — I might dwell on its wonderful powers of combina- 
tion ; on that excursive faculty, which, forever glancing from 
earth to heaven, and from heaven to earth, could gather the 
universe around him in aid of his illustrations. But to speak 
on these points becomes not this solemn occasion. He would 
frown on the attempt. He counted all these 'loss for Christ.' 
If I may speak of his character, it shall be that character which 



426 MEMOIR OF 

had so conspicuously the Christian stamp. In this respect, grace 
made him great. It wrought a deep work in his soul. The 
predominant features of his whole mind, for many years, were 
high spiritual views, and deep spiritual feelings. These tinged, 
or rather were the element of, his thoughts and efforts. His 
natural ardor of temperament doubtless affected, not a little, his 
religious exercises. It gave them violence and energy. His 
seasons of spiritual elevation were heaven brought down to 
earth. His seasons of religious depression resembled the storms 
of autumn, sudden, dark, threatening — leaving a serener and 
purer sky, but betokening that Avinter is approaching. He was 
pre-eminently a man of prayer. There was in his prayers a 
copiousness, a fervor, a familiarity, a reaching forth of the soul 
into eternity, that was almost peculiar to himself; and that told 
every hearer, that heaven was his element, and prayer his breath, 
and life, and joy. As a preacher, it is easier to say what he 
was not, than what he was. He was eloquent, and yet no one 
could describe his eloquence to the apprehension of a stranger. 
It consisted in an assemblage of qualities that could be seen and 
felt, but not described. He did not preach himself. His subject 
always stood between himself and his audience. Ah! I will 
not — I cannot enlarge. Let the thousand voices of those, who 
have been brought to the knowledge of Christ by his ministra- 
tions, tell what he was as a preacher. 

'' Shall I speak of his loss 7 To this religious community 

it is great. Few, at his period of life, have left an influence op- 
erating so widely and usefully on the moral and religious con- 
dition of men. That influence has gone very far. It is flying 
a^d will long be flying among the winged messengers of sal- 



Having followed this distinguished servant of Jesus from the 
commencement to the termination of his useful career, an ex- 
tended analysis of his character would form an appropriate con- 
clusion to the book. Such an analysis was contemplated, but 
is precluded by the unexpected size to which the volume has 
already grown. The omission will be the less regretted, as its 
place is supplied by a fuller development of facts, from which 
that character may be more accurately and minutely known 



EDWARD PAY SON. 



m 



By drawing attention to a few points, however, — which will be 
stated with as much brevity as possible, — some erroneous im- 
pressions may be obviated, and the benefit of a large class of rea- 
ders consulted. 

His physical conformation was of a very delicate structure, 
extremely sensitive and easily excited, ranking him beyond all 
question with the genus irritabile vatum. His constitutional 
tendencies were strengthened, and his sufferings from this source 
aggravated, by his lamentable imprudence, in venturing on a 
course of severe abstinence and protracted mental efforts, under 
which his nature sunk. Here was the great error of his life. 
To censure a man for constitutional infirmity is as unjust and 
inhuman as to censure him for a bodily deformity, which he 
had no agency in producing. The aggravation of natural evils 
by voluntary acts is, however, a just subject of animadversion.* 

* It is not easy to determine how fai* a man is accountable in a case like 
this. There is a general propensity to pronounce rash and cruel judgment 
upon men thus affected ; or, what is worse, to treat them with unfeeling ridi- 
cule. It is some apology for Dr. Payson, that the health of sedentary men 
had not, at the time of his error, become the subject of much attention ; his 
was in part the sin of ignorance. The case is now different. Much has 
been said, and much wi'itten on the subject, and there is in the Christian 
Spectator for April, 1827, an essay on the Influence of Nervous Disorders 
upon Religious Experience, which ought to be read in connexion with this 
Memou-. 

In an earlier number of the same work, (April, 1826,) is an article On the 
Mutual influence of the Mind and Body, — an inquiry which is deserving the 
consideration of all who would judge rightly of the phenomena that are 
sometimes witnessed in the subjects of nervous affections. We quote a few 
sentences : — 

" All these feelings are not in such cases strictly moral, nor are we accoun- 
table for them, except as we are accountable for inducing that state of phys- 
ical organization from which they result. They are the offspring of a diseased 
mind, and cannot be shaken off whilst the physical cause remains. Every 
physical state of the nervous system has a correspondent state of mental 
emotion ; and to remove the latter, the former must be changed. * * 

" But although physical causes have so extensive and important an influ- 
ence upon the mind, though they so often weaken and disorganize its powers, 
yet no mental diseases are so little understood as those originating in a phys- 
ical cause ; none excite so little sympath)'^, none are more real, and none give 
rise to more exquisite suffering. The unhappy victim is perhaps ridiculed, 
or, if not ridiculed, passes long and wretched hours in the miserable world 
presented through the medium of a diseased mind, till death sweeps him and 



428 MEMOIR OF 

Nervous irritability, with its consequent depression, was an in- 
gredient in Dr. Payson's nature, and would, without doubt, have 
been equally conspicuous, and vastly more disastrous in its ef- 
fects, had he lived a stranger to experimental religion. Though 
he suffered inconceivably in his own person from this cause, yet 
he seemed to have had it so far under his control, that it seldom, 
if ever, diminished his usefulness, or the amount of his active 
services, or was attended with ill effects in relation to others. He 
was not incessantly doling out his complaints into the ears of 
his fellow-creatures ; he kept them chiefly to himself. He was 
too wise to sue for sympathy from " nerves of wire." 

His melancholy never, in a single instance, that is recollected, 
brought him into " bondage through fear of death." He invari- 
ably contemplated an exchange of worlds with complacency, as 
a desirable event, ''a consummation devoutly to be wished." 

As rarely, almost, did it disqualify him for, or indispose him to 
any official labor, which was demanded by the state of his flock. 
However reduced in strength or depressed in feelings, he was 
quick to hear, and prompt to obey, all pastoral calls ; and often 
did so when he needed to be in his bed, and under the care of 
the nurse or physician. 

It never rendered him unequal to the most sudden and trying 
emergencies of life. He could meet, with the utmost readiness, 
any demands which unexpected and distressing events made 
upon him. In the alarm of a conflagration, when confusion of 
mind and general agitation render worse than useless one half 
of the endeavors which are made to stay the calamity, and res- 
cue property and lives from destruction, he was cool and collect- 
ed, and a most efficient helper. In time of war and public calamity, 
his mind was, if ever, kept in perfect peace. The most undis- 
turbed composure and resignation were apparent in him, when 
the objects of his dearest earthly affections were languishing and 
undergoing mortal agonies before his eyes ; the same was true 
"when tortures like those of the rack seized and convulsed his 

his sorrows to the land of forgetfulness ; yet, while the physical cause con- 
tinues its influence, a man might as well attempt to heap Pelion on Ossa, as 
to remove fi-om his burdened mind the pressure of distempered imaginations. 
Let those testify, upon whom Dyspepsy has laid her leaden hand, quenching 
the fire of feeling and imagination, checking the flow of mtellect, and haunt- 
ing the mind with spectral apparitions of imreal evil. " 



EDWARD PAYSON. 429 

own frame. He has been known, also, to walk deliberately up, 
and cut the cord by which a suicide was suspended, when oth- 
ers, of firm nerves, stood gazing, horror-stricken at the spectacle. 
That it was originally his calamity, and not his crime, is fur- 
ther evident from the fact, that it bore upon him with almost 
insupportable weight at some times when faith and hope co- 
existed with it. In all his private writings, no expressions 
have been found indicative of a more keen sense of suffering 
from this cause, than some which he penned, when his hope of 
heaven existed to a degree amounting almost to assurance. 
"This oppressive melancholy cut the very sinews of the soul, 
so that it could not throw off the load. " 

This malady may be regarded as having reached its climax 
during his first essays as a preacher. There had been causes 
favoring its rapid progress, which did not afterwards exist. And, 
notwithstanding the greater subsequent prostration of his health, 
its general symptoms wore a mitigated aspect, and became less 
distressing from year to year. Some short seasons are to be 
excepted from this general remark; particularly portions of the 
year or two next preceding that in which he died, — when, in 
addition to his extreme weakness, his mind was agitated by 
questions of great moment to the general interests of religion. 
Though his light was obscured by a temporary cloud, yet was 
his path, in an emphatic sense, like the rising sun, shining more 
and more unto the perfect day. Probably there was not a day 
during the last six months of his life, in which the Sun of Righ- 
teousness did not shine upon him in full-orbed splendor. 

As there are " laws pertaining to the union of mind and body 
which affect them in common," it is a matter of course, that the 
disorders of his physical frame should modify, in some degree, 
the exercises of his mind and his religious affections. Hence 
we have seen him writing bitter things against himself, for 
causes which, with a different temperament, would have given 
him little uneasiness. We have seen him, at times, " poring so 
closely over his own frame of mind, as scarcely to be able to 
lift up his eyes to the cross ; or, if his eyes glanced that way, 
they were so diffused with penitential tears, that they saw but 
dimly the merit of the Saviour's blood, the compassions of his 
heart, and the freeness of his salvation." At one stage of his 
religious progress, he seems to have been so anxious for happy 



430 MEMOIR OF 

frames, that, without being conscious of it at the time, the 
obtaining of such frames was, perhaps, the immediate end of 
his offices of devotion ; and according to their state he gradua- 
ted his hope. As those were joyful or gloomy, this was eleva- 
ted or depressed. This error, and the sore chastisement which 
he suffered in consequence, he in his last days held forth as a 
warning to a near relative, whom he supposed to be in danger 
of a similar mistake. 

His religion also, in his own view, was, for a time at least, 
tinged with romance. This resulted from his ardor of temper- 
ament. " By religious romance," he once said in conversation, 
*' I mean the indulgence of unwarranted expectations ; expecta- 
tions that our sins are to be subdued at once in some uncommon 
way, or by some uncommon means ; just as a man would expect 
to become rich by drawing a prize in a lottery, or in some other 
hap-hazard way. We cannot, indeed, expect too much, if we 
regulate our expectations by the word of God ; but we may 
expect more than he warrants us to expect, and when our 
unwarranted expectations are disappointed, Ave are apt to sink 
into despondency. Christians whose natural feelings are strong 
are most liable to run into this error. But I know of no way to 
make progress in holiness, but the steady, humble, persever- 
ing practice of meditation, prayer, watchfulness, self-denial, 
and good works. If we use these means, our progress is cer- 
tain." 

None of these defects, however, entered so deeply into the 
character of his religion as to conceal the marks of its genuine- 
ness, or scarcely to obscure them. The features which pro- 
claimed its heavenly origin and its heavenly tendency, were 
strongly marked and abiding. Almost from its commencement, 
we have seen him habitually discriminating between '' the real 
and the imaginary, the scriptural and the erroneous, the precious 
and the vile," in his own religious emotions. He had been the 
first to apply to them the only infallible test, and the first to 
detect and abjure whatever did not sustain the trial of Scrip- 
ture. We see him, in reference to his own exercises, making 
the distinction between distress of mind and brokenness of heart, 
and between other affections which a hypocrite or a deluded man 
would be certain to confound. 

Ardent and impassioned as was his religion, it is nevertheless 



EDWARD PAYSON. 431 

a noticeable fact, that seldom, if ever, did an expression of the 
workings of the heart towards the Object of his supreme affec- 
tions escape him, even in private, which was suited to awaken 
degrading and earthly associations. The impression must be 
deeply imprinted on every reader, that the intercourse which 
he maintained with God was a holy intercourse. While he was 
filled with the highest admiration of the condescension of God, 
and talked with him almost with the same familiarity with 
which a man addresses his friend ; it was still with the pro- 
foundest reverence, and with a deep-seated consciousness of the 
distance between the Creator and the creature — a characteristic 
which belongs to no fanatic. 

His devotional contemplations, even when they have most the 
appearance of extravagance, differ widely from the reveries of 
the enthusiast. He is no where seen regarding himself as the 
only creature in the universe, or as the peculiar favorite of hea- 
ven ; nor exulting in the thought of being saved, and made 
eternally happy, independently of the medium through which 
salvation is effected. He saw and felt, that there were interests 
to be consulted of more importance to the universe than his 
individual happiness, and wished to be saved in no way which 
would put these interests in jeopardy. If there was a single 
attribute of Jehovah, which he contemplated with more exquis- 
ite pleasure than any other, or one which he desired above all 
to imitate, it was holiness. And seldom did his thoughts revert 
to this perfection without an earnest prayer that his fellow 
creatures might become holy. If there was ever a time when 
his religion might be mistaken for a '* moping sentimenlalism,"' 
or a '' monkish religion," it was while he pursued in solitude 
his studies preparatory to the ministry; but, even then, it was 
not " that sickly sensitiveness, which serves only to divert atten- 
tion from what is important in practical virtue.'' His immedi- 
ate relations to his fellow-men were then comparatively few, 
and made only small and infrequent demands upon his time 
and attention, and sufficiently account for the appearance which 
his religion then assumed. But, even at that time, he does not 
seem to have been deficient in relative duty ; and when duties 
of this class were greatly multiplied, he was a pattern of fidel- 
ity, punctuality, and perseverance. His practice of all the 
moral virtues was so exact and thorough, that the bitterest 



432 M E M I R F 

enemy was unable to detect any delinquency. And with a 
heart full charged with benevolence, he was ever " doing good 
to all men as he had opportunity, especially to them of the 
household of faith." In short, if the existence of true religion 
is to be known by its practical fruits, we know not the man who 
could sustain a closer scrutiny than Dr. Payson. He was 
remarkably free from one class of indulgences, to which his 
constitution and often infirmities must have predisposed him, 
and to which he must have been strongly tempted by the fash- 
ions of society, when the use of stimulating drinks was common 
in all circles, and the glass was tendered almost with the first 
salutation. But he kept himself pure. This and similar facts 
show very strikingly the strength of religious principle in his 
soul, and how much he owed to divine grace. 

The faults of Dr. Payson were of a kind suited to make an 
impression altogether disproportionate to their moral obliquity. 
To a stranger, who had seen him but once, and under the influ- 
ence of those agitated and desponding feelings with which he 
left the conference room,=^ — and there were two or three such 
occurrences in the course of his life, — he would, probably, have 
appeared rash, petulant, and unreasonably severe; and this 
sudden tide of disagreeable feelings would have been taken for 
his general character. A stranger would not know, what his 
church knew, that, by the time he had reached his home, he had 
assumed to himself the blame which he had charged upon them ; 
and that, the first opportunity, he would meet them with subdu- 
ed feelings and the humility of a child. A transient observer 
would not have seen the influence of this step on the church ; 
and that nothing could have been so eflectual to produce relent- 
in gs in them, and bring them back to their duty, as the reflec- 
tion that they had so deeply grieved the heart of him who was 
so ready to spend and be spent for their salvation. Mutual 
confession and forgiveness has a wonderful effect in softening 
the heart, and preparing it for the reception of divine influences ; 
and never had mere man a more exorable and forgiving spirit 
than Dr. Payson. 

Of the truth of this last remark, there is the most abundant 
and satisfactory proof, of which the nature of the case will 

* Page 389. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 433 

admit. He did not pass through life without encountering inju- 
ries, which were aimed at his dearest and tenderest interests ; 
which were wounding to the feelings, and would have exasper- 
ated a man less under the influence of a Christian temper than 
he. Yet not the remotest trace can be found of a vindictive 
spirit. In this he evidently endeavored to copy his Divine 
Model throughout; "who, when he was reviled, reviled not 
again; when he suffered, threatened not; but committed himself 
to him who judgeth righteously." The writer has been curious 
to examine his closet-meditations upon the wrongs which were 
inflicted upon him, and to learn what were his real feehngs to- 
wards those from whom he suflered maltreatment and abuse. 
For this purpose, he has directed his attention to the dates of 
such as occurred within his own knowledge, and with the circum- 
stances of which he was familiarly acquainted. The result is 
most honorable to the departed minister. Of some no trace can 
be found ; they are buried in forgetfulness. To some there is 
merely an allusion. Where a notice of them was unavoidable, 
the fact is mentioned or insinuated ; but rarely, indeed, is it 
accompanied with reproach or censure. The comment usually 
is, in substance, " Retired, and prayed for him who had done 
the injury." Such was the only revenge which he sought of 
the mischievous wag, who awaked him at midnight, with a 
forged request that he would visit a woman alleged to be dying. 
Even those injuries which were aimed at his reputation, and 
were designed, by affecting his character, to weaken his influ- 
ence, and obstruct his usefulness, and, therefore, incomparably 
more grievous than any mere personal wrongs, were treated 
with no greater severity. Careful as he was to record his own 
sins and failings, and severely as he condemned them, the 
instances are few indeed, in which he passes any direct censure 
upon a fellow creature. Always bold and faithful to rebuke 
sin, when he met its perpetrator face to face, he was equally 
tender towards the guilty, in circumstances where severity could 
do nothing towards reclaiming him. The sins of others he had 
no wish to perpetuate. He seeks forgiveness for them in private 
prayer, and spreads over them a mantle broad enough to "cover 
a multitude of sins." How deeply learned must he have been 
in the school of Christ, thus to " love his enemies, to bless them 
VOL. I. 55 



434 MEMOIR OF 

that cursed him, to do good to them that hated him, and to pray 
for them who despitefuUy used and persecuted him !" 

An abhorrence of sin cannot have failed to strike every read- 
er as a prevailing affection of Dr. Payson's heart. It is a»ppar- 
ent at all times and in all circumstances. We see it in the 
records of the closet, and in his pulpit addresses. It was seen 
by those who met him in social intercourse, whether for ordin- 
ary purposes, or for religious inquiry and conference ; and es- 
pecially by those who heard his confessions and prayers to Him 
who hath said, " O, do not that abominable thing which I hate!" 
It was in its relation to God and his law, that he viewed it, and 
learned its nature ; and not merely from its effects on the well- 
being and happiness of man. The guilt and pollution of sin 
were, beyond expression, hateful to him. He dreaded its con- 
tamination more than death — more than he did the gnawings 
of the never-dying worm. Hell itself had fewer terrors for 
him than sin. The latter was his torment and his grief; but 
how rarely was he troubled with apprehensions of the former ! 
That, he freely acknowledged, he deserved ; but it was this, 
which filled him with distress. This was the burden of his 
private lamentations ; the foe to God and man which he depre- 
cated, denounced, and abjured in public, and against which his 
solemn warnings were directed. He abhorred it for its guilt, he 
loathed it for its degradation, more than he dreaded the misery 
which it entails. It was the ''wormwood and the gall, which 
his soul had continually in remembrance, and was humbled in 
him." It was for this that he abhorred himself, repenting in 
dust and ashes. On account of sin, he daily sorrowed after a 
godly sort: — and "what carefulness it wrought in him" to 
watch against its approach ; to foresee and resist temptations ; 
to seek strength from above, that he might be preserved from fall- 
ing ; to guard every thought, and word, and act, lest he should 
prejudice his Maker's cause ! or, to express the emotion in his 
own language, he "seemed to himself to be walking on a hair, 
and hardly dared to go to his meals, lest he should say or do 
something that might disgrace the ministry or hurt the cause of 
religion :" — " what clearing of himself" from all consciousness 
and all imputations of allowed sin, so as to draw forth the ac- 
knowledgment from the most abandoned, that he was a man of 



EDWARD PAY SON. 435 

Godj and make it safe for him to lodge the appeal in the con- 
sciences of his flock, " Ye are witnesses, and God also, how 
holily, and justly, and unblamably I have behaved myself 
among you !" — " what indignation " against himself for having 
ever been rebellious, or for having, after he became a willing 
subject, failed to glorify God in all things, or foi^eited, even for 
a moment, the approbation of his Master, and the pleasures of 
a good conscience! — "what fear" of repeating the transgres- 
sion, preferring rather to die than again offend his God and 
wound his Redeemer ! — " what vehement desire " to be wholly 
delivered from the power and contamination of sin, his soul 
going forth in ardent longings after God, or, in his own language, 
" filled with insatiable desires after holiness !" — " what zeal " 
in his conflict with this perpetually annoying enemy ! How 
" unfatigued his fervent spirit labored !" With what unsleeping 
vigilance and skill did he employ the " weapons of the holy 
war," to dislodge the foe from his own heart and the hearts of 
others, that the Saviour might be enthroned in them, and sway 
his sceptre over them ! 

Another precious mark of the genuineness of his religion was 
his bowing with entire reverence to the supreme authority of 
divine revelation. This was strikingly apparent from the time 
when he first knew its value by experience, by his making it 
his almost exclusive study, as a preparation for preaching, and 
by his daily devotion to it till his death. He had no favorite 
dogma, no figment of the imagination, no theoretical specula- 
tion or practical views, which he was not ready to discard at 
once, if they were seen to clash in the least with the Scriptures 
of truth. These were his chart, his pole-star, his " light 
shining in a dark place, to which he did well to take heed." He 
opened them with the docility of a child, and " drank in the 
sincere milk of the word " with exquisite relish. To him they 
were " more precious than gold, SAveeter than honey, and more 
highly prized than his necessary food." And in this love and 
reverence for the Scriptures may be seen the reason, why, con- 
stituted as he was, he was never led astray by the pride of opin- 
ion, never drawn into ensnaring errors by his salient imagination. 
Every thought, sentiment, fancy, and opinion was daily correct- 
ed by the word of God. It M'as this steadfast adherence to his 
Rule, that kept him in '• the good and right way." 



436 MEMOIR OF 

The last mark of the genuineness of his religion which will 
be noticed, is his perseverance. Had his fervor of affection 
abated, and left him in a state of apathy ; had he let down his 
watch, suspended his efforts, and ceased striving to reach '' the 
fulness of the stature of a perfect man in Christ Jesus," this 
temporary ardor might justly have brought his piety under sus- 
picion, as being nothing better than a species of religious wild- 
fire. But, as it has been well remarked by a late writer, 
"Where there is no error of imagination — no misjudging of re- 
alities — no calculations which reason condemns — there is no 
enthusiasm, even though the soul may be on fire with the 
velocity of its movement in pursuit of it chosen object." With 
the velocity with which he had commenced his race, he con- 
tinued to move, accelerated, too, by the momentum which he 
had acquired in his progress. His religion was " the water 
which Christ gives, and was in him a well of water, springing 
up into everlasting life." These remarks apply to his perform- 
ance of particular duties, as well as to his general progress, 
One of his own precious "gems of thought" will here be intro- 
duced to illustrate the principle upon which he acted, and the 
principle which kept action alive, not in one mode only, but in 
every method by which man can express affection for the 
Saviour : — 

" It has been frequently wished by Christians, that there were 
some rule laid down in the Bible, fixing the proportion of their 
property which they ought to contribute to religious uses. This 
is as if a child should go to his father, and say, ' Father, how 
many times in the day must I come to you with some testimo- 
nial of my love ? how often will it be necessary to show my af- 
fection for you?' The father would, of course reply, ' Just as 
often as your feelings prompt you, my child, and no often er.' 
Just so Christ says to his people : ' Look at me, and see what I 
have done and suffered for you, and then give me just what 
you think I deserve. I do not wish any thing forced.' " 

Here, unquestionably, is the measure and the obligation of 
Christian duty, which he endeavored to keep continually in his 
own eye. He loved much, for much had been forgiven him. 
He daily looked to Christ, and saw continually increasing rea- 



EDWARD PAYSON. 437 

sons for increased love, zeal and duty. His religious emotions 
were strengthened by constant exercise, and the utterance of 
them in the presence of his heavenly Father. The constant 
practice of duty gave him increased ability for duty. He con- 
tinued his approaches to the throne of grace through all the 
changes of his afflicted, joyful hfe. If any man on earth could 
meet the challenge — "Will he always call upon God?" — that 
man was Edward Payson. And the ''eternal sunshine " which 
began to settle on his soul before it left the body, is evidence 
that he was heard and accepted. 

The grand means, by which he reached his distinguished 
eminence in piety, and " persevered therein to the end," may be 
learned from what has already been disclosed. Much more, 
liowever, might be revealed respecting the methods which he 
employed to " bring every thought into captivity to the obedi- 
ence of Christ." Circumstances in themselves trifling often 
have important influence on the character ; and nothing is un- 
worthy of regard, which helps to prevent our hearts from wan- 
dering from God, or to recall them when they stray, or to keep 
alive the sense of our religious obligations. When there are so 
many allurements and temptations to stray, as this world pre- 
sents, addressed to hearts so vulnerable and so easily deceived, 
it is well to have a monitor in every object we behold ; to make 
inanimate things our comisellors ; to 

" Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing ;" 

till all parts of creation become preachers of righteousness. He 
who can thus habitually associate religious considerations with 
the " things that are seen," enjoys a rational satisfaction at the 
same time that he cultivates a spirit of devotion. But those 
who find it difficult thus to read the book of nature, may 
derive a useful hint from another practice of Dr. Payson. On 
the waste leaf of several numbers of his journal are maxims, 
rules, admonitions, or choice sentiments, which appear to be 
intended to remind him, every time he should take up the vol- 
ume to make an entry, of some obligation, or to serve as a 
stimulus to duty in some one of his important relations. The 
value of such mementos is incalculable, and within the reach 
of all. It may be useful to transcribe a specimen : — 



438 MEMOIR OF 

" Rutherford remarks, — ' I have set apart some time, morn- 
ing, noon, and night, for prayer, reading the Scriptures, medi- 
tation, &c. : • 

' I have endeavored to mingle thoughts on serious subjects 
with other employments : 

' To watch against wandering thoughts in secret prayer : 

' Never to murmur that I did not enjoy sensible comfort in 
prayer : 

' To spend the whole of the Lord's day in public and private 
devotion : 

* To avoid all idle words, and thoughts, and sudden passion : 

* Especially to avoid sinning against light in the most trivial 
affair, as nothing has a more powerful tendency to harden the 
heart.' " 

" An eminent saint, now in heaven, remarked as follows : — 

* Now, at the close of life, my conscience reproaches me, for 
not doing every thing, however small, with a view to the divine 
glory : 

'That I have not been more careful to spend time profitably 
in company : 

* That I have not been affected with the distresses of others : 
' That I have not been duly humbled for the sins of my 

youth.' " 

" If the end of one mercy were not the beginning of another, 
we were undone." 

The following, from Flavel and Baxter, were for his consid- 
eration as a minister : — 

" Jesus was a tender-hearted minister, a faithful minister, a 
laborious, painful minister, a minister who delighted in the suc- 
cess of his ministry, a minister who lived up to his doctrine, a 
minister who maintained communion with God." 

" I have long observed, that though ministers use words and 
arguments ever so persuasive and convincing, yet, if they think 
all their care is over as soon as the sermon is delivered, pretend- 
ing they have done their duty, and that the event is God^s, they 



EDWARD PAYSON. 439 

seldom prosper in their labors ; but those whose heart is set on 
the success of their wqrk, who earnestly inquire how it 
speeds, and who follow up their public labors with prayer 
and private exhortation, are usually blessed and owned in their 
work." 

He had still another class of maxims, which show his con- 
scientious regard to '' whatsoever things are lovely and of good 
report." 

The preceding pages contain a tolerably complete — perhaps 
too complete — exhibition of Dr. Payson's religious character. 
It has been found a very serious and difficult question, how far 
it is justifiable to submit to the inspection of good and bad, in- 
discriminately, the records of one's private exercises, which 
were not intended to be seen out of the closet. As religion is 
so mxuch the business of the closet, it is obvious, that no man's 
religious character can be fully developed, without exhibiting 
the transactions of that sacred retreat. Disclosures of this 
class have been highly prized by the Christian community gen- 
erally ; and God himself seems to have set the seal of his ap- 
probation upon them, by rendering them the frequent occasion 
of exciting and cherishing religious affections. These consid- 
erations have done much to quiet the misgivings, which were 
occasionally felt on exposing, as it were, to the public gaze, the 
recesses, of a heart so deeply and variously affected as was 
that of the subject of this Memoir. It is hoped, however, that 
there is no wanton exposure. The author's first care has been 
to give an honest, faithful history ; and he is not aware that any 
deductions or abatements from the commendatory part need to 
be made on the ground of personal friendship or partiality, or 
that any lack of censure needs to be supplied for similar rea- 
sons. Rather has he feared that his anxiety to copy scriptural 
models, which describe the faults of good men with the same 
unshrinking fidelity that they embalm their virtues, may have 
led him to throw too much of shade into the picture, to dwell 
at disproportionate length on those points which cannot be con- 
templated without sadness. The several parts of the work, 
however, will be found, notwithstanding their apparently mis- 
cellaneous character, to have an intimate relation to the whole, 
and to, reciprocally, modify and explain each other. 



440 M E M I R O F 

The query will perhaps arise, Why, if Dr. Payson intended 
his diary should never be read, did he not destroy it previous to 
his death ? His procedure in regard to his manuscript sermons 
suggests a possible reason. It was for a long time his settled 
purpose never to allow one to be published ; and, after it be- 
came certain that he could no longer use them in public, he ac- 
tually set about their immolation. They were reprieved from 
the flames, for a season, at the almost forcible interposition of 
his family. As the time of his departure approached, the glories 
of heaven and the value of the soul appeared so transcendent, 
that he became wholly indifferent to literary reputation and 
worldly fame, and gave his consent to the publication of a por- 
tion of his discourses, if it should be thought expedient, or 
would be beneficial to men. He was now perfectly willing to 
become " a fool for Christ's sake." A similar change might 
have taken place in regard to the diary ; though it is more 
probable that he expected it would never be read. The key he 
had imparted to no one ; and, though he was aware that it had 
been partially discovered — for occasionally, but unconsciously 
to himself, a word in his alphabet found its way into his friend- 
ly epistles, and its import was determined by the connexion, and 
then the sounds or letters, which the characters represented, 
were easily ascertained ; yet he probably thought no one would 
have the curiosity or patience to try it throughout, especially as 
his manner of applying it is not the same in every volume. 

It may be regarded as an inexcusable omission not to glance 
at his intellectual qualities, in connexion with the great pur- 
poses for which he employed them. This may be done by in- 
troducing an extract, addressed to his church and congregation 
at the installation of his successor, the Rev. Dr. Tyler, by 
President Allen : — 

" His vigorous intellect could grasp high subjects. Nor was 
his knowledge limited to one department. It had a wide range, 
as his curiosity was insatiable, and his acquisitions made with 
the utmost rapidity. But from all the fields of science he brought 
illustrations of the great principles of religion, which it was his 
business and delight to communicate to his fellow men. 

" Among the valuable qualities, with which it pleased the 
great Author of his mind to endow him, fancy or imagination 



EDWARD PAYSON. 441 

was very conspicuous, and very important. This essence "of 
the poet belonged to him in a high degree. If there are, among 
preachers of the gospel, men of strong intellect and close argu- 
ment, Avho reason with great force, without deriving any aid 
from the imaginative faculty ; yet such was not the character- 
istic of his preaching. Nor am I persuaded that the highest 
powers of reasoning on moral subjects can be separated from 
the resources of a well-stored fancy. In mathematical reason- 
ing which is founded wholly on definitions, or a few expressed 
conceptions or notions, the process is indeed to be carried on, as 
the smith makes a chain, by adding link to hnk. The argu- 
ment is uniform, and of one material. There is no place for 
illustrations ; no opportunity for the colorings of fancy. 

"But if we reason on moral subjects, the case is very diifer- 
ent. We do not set out with clear, unquestioned definitions, and 
adequate notions. Our very conceptions of spiritual truths 
must be aided by means of the objects presented to our senses. 
The imagination must assist the intellect. Without this imagi- 
native faculty, this power of comparing dififerent objects, of per- 
ceiving the analogies of the universe, I do not know how we 
can form the best notions of the divine attributes; and sure I 
am, that without this faculty we are ill qualified to be teachers 
of others, and must be very deficient in the power of rousing 
the sluggish attention, of aiding the eflbrts of the weak intellect^ 
of irradiating the cloudy conception, and of strengthening the 
vision for the view of the distant and the obscure. Our Master 
and Teacher, the great Author and Finisher of our faith, very 
frequently illustrated spiritual things by means of material ob- 
jects, and has shown us how to make Nature, as she should be, 
the handmaid of Religion. Dr. Payson, from the ample store- 
house of his fancy, often brought forth images and symbols, 
enabling him to exhibit clearly his conceptions, which might 
otherwise have been unintelligible, and to transport his hearers^ 
as it were, in spite of themselves, to the deep and never-opened 
prison, where is weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, — and 
also to the bright, and pure, and all-glorious presence of God, 
and to the immediate glance of that all-piercing eye, from which 
iniquity shrinketh away in terror and horror. 

"Other elements are yet to be considered in estimating his 
power as a preacher. It was not merely that his mind was ac- 

voL. I. 56 



442 MEMOIR OF 

tive and strong, and that he could scatter the radiance of an 
unequalled fancy over the abstrusest conceptions, and mingle 
delight with instruction. In addition to this, his power as a 
preacher was the power of his own deep-seated conviction of 
the infinite importance of the truths which he communicated, 
and of the realities of the invisible world, which he described; 
— the power of ardent, unquestioned piety. 

"His eloquence was very different from studied oratory, 
there was no elegance of gesture, and no display. Yet the deep 
tones of his voice, uttering tremendous warnings, were calculat- 
ed to startle the secure, while the blessed promises of the gospel 
came from his lips in the mild and gladdening accents of one 
whose soul rejoiced in God his Saviour." 

Scarcely an individual has ever been heard to speak of Dr. 
Payson's intellectual qualities, who did not fix upon imagination 
as the predominant characteristic in the structure of his mind; 
and it is often referred to as a simple faculty, involving the ex- 
ercise of no other powers. A distinct and lively perception of 
truths and objects, a power of comparison, abstraction, and com- 
bination, are essential constituents of this faculty, as it exists in 
the poet; and such was it in him. If he had devoted himself 
to the Muses, he might have taken a high rank among the "sons 
of song." As it was, the inspiration of poetry pervades his mor- 
al and religious discussions, and in a manner altogether as 
agreeable, and far more useful, than if it were presented in 
measured lines. His imagination was under the control of judg- 
ment, and entirely subservient to the objects he had in view. 
It was never employed to excite wonder, but always to convey 
instruction. Its boldest flights disclose a very exact and delicate 
perception of the relations of different subjects; and his selection 
of the circumstances for comparison, a most discriminating judg- 
ment.* Of all the ten thousand illustrations of moral and reli- 

* His dreaming imaginations were, sometimes at least, as regular and in- 
structive as those which were formed in obedience to the will : — 

"Once I dreamed of being transported to heaven, and, being surprised to 
find myself so calm and tranquil in the midst of my happiness, inquired the 
cause. The reply was — When you were on earth, you resembled a bottle 
but partly filled with water, which was agitated by the least motion ; now 
you are like the same bottle filled to the brim, which cannot be disturbed." 



EDWARD PAYSON. 443 

gious truths, with which this faculty supphed him, scarcely one 
failed of being a type, — I had almost said, a perfect type or 
representation of the idea or impression which he wished to con- 
vey. It brought full satisfaction to the mind of the hearer. 
He felt that he knew what was thus taught him. 

Some have supposed, that he employed analogies and the 
creations of fancy as the means of investigating truth ; that is 
— if I understand their meaning — that, supposing " truth to lie 
in a well," his imagination fitted up a sort of machinery to draw 
it out. But this is a mistake: he had, like others, to dive or 
dig for it. He had early imbibed the maxim, " There is no royal 
road to knowledge;" and felt its application to theology, as well 
as to "geometry." His acquisitions were made by close and 
prayerful investigation. Too much has been ascribed to his 
genius, and too little to his industry. His native talents Avere 
indeed of a high order, but they were strengthened by cultiva- 
tion and exercise. His ardor in the pursuit of knowledge never 
abated; his acquisitions were constantly accumulating. It was 
by continually extending his acquaintance with God's world, 
and the creatures who inhabit it, that he procured the materials 
with which imagination might work. The conclusions to which 
he was conducted by his own investigations, the conceptions 
which existed in his own mind, he did often communicate to 
others by analogies, similitudes, and imagined cases ; and this, 
it is conceived, is their legitimate use. 

He had a high relish for literary pursuits, and greatly enjoy- 
ed the society of literary men. And it will be regarded by those 
who are able to appreciate it, as one of the most remarkable 
instances of his self-denial, that he could abandon a pleasure of 
which he was so highly susceptible, in order the more effectually 
to promote the salvation of his species. It may well be spoken 
of as an abandonment; — for when he gave himself up to the 
ministry, he ceased to cultivate classical literature for the sake 
of fame, or for his own individual gratification merely. He 
could not indulge himself, and consume his time, in refined in- 
tellectual luxuries, when souls were perishing around him. 
There were subjects of real and acknowledged utility — subjects 
of deep and everlasting interest — pursuits immediately connect- 
ed with the immortal destinies of men, sufficient to employ his 
time, and task his best powers. To learning of doubtful utility, 



444 MEMOIR OF 

and rare application, whether recondite or elegant, he paid little 
attention. He estimated the probable permanent advantages to 
be expected from different pursuits, by the balances of the sanc- 
tuary, and resolutely forsook those, however consonant to his 
inclinations, "where the gains will not pay for the candle, and 
where the philosopher and the scholar threaten to swallow up 
the divine. " 

Yet, in the legitimate sense of the term, he was a philosopher. 
In the philosophy of that department, in which he shone pre- 
eminently, he had the start of the age. He anticipated the sub- 
stantial improvements in the manner of conducting theological 
researches, which our theological seminaries have done so much 
to introduce and extend. His discernment, judgment and good 
sense are strikingly apparent in the course which he pursued to 
prepare himself for the pulpit. Theology he regarded as a divine 
science; and he sought it through the medium of that divine 
revelation, which has been communicated to the world, and not 
in human speculations. He studied to ascertain those bounda- 
ries, which separate what may be known by man, from that 
which must forever elude his research, — unless the light of eter- 
nity shall reveal it, — and he never overstepped them. He stop- 
ped at ultimate facts, and never "intruded into those things 
which are not convenient," and of which the sage knows as 
little as the child. 

Those whom he was endeavoring to guide to heaven, he also 
strove to keep within the same limits; teaching them that "se- 
cret things belong to the Lord, but the things that are revealed, 
to them and their children. " And among the "things that are 
revealed," he distinguished between those which are capable of 
receiving elucidation from human discussion, and those that 
mock all human explanation, and with respect to which the 
very attempt would be "darkening counsel by words without 
knowledge." There was no doctrine found in the Bible, which 
he hesitated to assert and defend; but he guarded against resting 
in it as a mere speculation, — against "holding the truth in un- 
righteousness." His great aim was to make every scriptural 
theme bear Avith force upon the conscience, — to have every doc- 
trine excite its correspondent emotion, and every precept its 
obligation. If his success is not an adequate recommendation 
of his practice, the experience of the church, in past ages, holds 



EDWARD PAYSON. 445 

out an affecting warning of the evils of a contrary course. 
"Christianity," says a recent writer, "has, in some short periods 
of its history, been entirely dissociated from philosophical modes 
of thought and expression; and assuredly it has prospered in 
such periods. At other times, it has scarcely been seen at all, 
except in the garb of metaphysical discussion, and then it has 
lost all its vigor and glory." 

It has been supposed by some, that there must have been a 
deplorable leanness in his discourses, as it respects the essential 
and peculiar doctrines of the gospel. This suspicion may never 
have prevailed extensively, and it is not certainly known on 
what it is founded. It may have arisen from the fact that such 
multitudes flocked to hear him, in connexion with another fact, 
viz., the sinful opposition of the human heart to the humbling 
doctrines of the cross. In regard to some, it may have arisen 
from the fact, that he reasoned without the parade of reason- 
ing ; that he argued without reducing his arguments to the dry 
bones of a syllogism ; that he was not accustomed to assume a 
bold and startling position, and then declare, in due form, how 
he was going to prove it. It may have arisen from the fact, 
that he always preached so as to be understood, and left no 
room for the inference, that he must be a deep man because 
his meaning could not be apprehended. But whether the sus- 
picion be owing to any or none of these causes, it is doubted 
whether it has any better foundation to rest upon. He did not 
" walk in craftiness, nor handle the word of God deceitfully." 
He could have concealed nothing from design, which it was 
obligatory on him to declare ; for this would be contrary to his 
whole character. Friends and foes alike gave him credit for 
honesty and plain dealing. It could not be for want of cour- 
age ; for he feared not the face of flesh ; and some of the prac- 
tical discourses which he delivered, it required tenfold more of 
moral heroism to pronounce, than it would the most offensive 
doctrines. Sinners might sit and hear the doctrines of election 
and reprobation defended, and not feel half the opposition of 
heart, which would be drawn forth by Dr. Payson's practical 
sermons, particularly such a sermon as that in which fraud is 
exposed and condemned ; and other evil practices did not re- 
ceive a whit more indulgence from him. 

Others, again, who were at a loss to account, on satisfactory 



446 MEMOIR OF 

principles, for the attraction which drew and bound so many to 
him, have ascribed his influence to different causes ; as, an artful 
and impassioned oratory, a talent for amusing an audience, and 
even to rant ! No flattering compliment, to be sure, to his 
hearers; but it should be stated, byway of apology for these 
surmises, that their authors lived at a distance, and did not 
know him. A little knowledge of human nature might have 
been sufiicient to correct such an error. No man, by such 
means, could have sustained a growing reputation, in the same 
place, for a period of twenty years, receiving continual acces- 
sions to his flock, which included a fair proportion of profess- 
ional characters, and men of cultivated minds. There was, it 
is true, always something in his discourses to delight the mind, 
even when his language was the vehicle of unwelcome truths ; 
but he never uttered any thing from the pulpit with the view 
to amuse. Never did he 

" Court a grin, when he should woo a soul." 

There was nothing of stage eflecf either in Dr. Payson's person- 
al appearance or in his eloquence — no imposing attitudes or 
gestures — no extremes of intonation — no affectation of tears. 
It was simple nature, sanctified by grace, uttering the deep con- 
victions of the heart, and pleading with fellow sinners to become 
reconciled to God. It was the eloquence of truth spoken in 
love. The words seemed to come from his mouth encompassed 
by that glowing atmosphere in which they left the heart, and 
to brand their very impression in every heart on which they 
fell. y 

On account of the rapid increase of his church, some have 
imagined that he must have admitted persons of dubious piety. 
A venerable minister in another state once sent him a message 
— and by a member of his church too — "not to make Chris- 
tians too fast." To say nothing of the brotherly kindness of 
such an insinuation, conveyed by such a messenger, it may be 
doubted whether that good man's successor did not find as much 
" wood, hay, and stubble," in the superstructure of his own 
■erecting — as much at least in proportion to its dimensions — as 
did Dr. Payson's. And yet he was a man of known and 
acknowledged fidelity. What church does nut receive and retain 



EDWARD PAYSON. 447 

hypocrites 1 If such characters found their way into Dr. Pay- 
son's church, his skirts are clear of their blood ; he aimed to do 
his duty faithfully, and no minister was ever more attentive to 
church discipline. Facts, which have appeared so wonderful, 
and have been accounted for in so many conjectural ways, will 
not, perhaps, appear surprising, when his private devotions and 
public labors become more extensively known. Perhaps it will 
be felt, that the rheans which he employed, and which God 
blessed, bore as full a proportion to their results as in other ordi- 
nary cases. 

It has been supposed, too, that his person and peculiar men- 
tal characteristics were the bond of union, which kept his 
church and parish together, and that when he should be remo- 
ved, the massive body would fall to pieces. This expectation 
has shared the same fate as many predictions of which Dr. Pay- 
son or his people were the subject. During the whole trying pe- 
riod in which they were without a pastor, their integrity was 
almost unexampled. Not a single defection took place ; proving 
that it was not his person only, but the influence of his doctrines, 
which united them as one. 

The truth is, no man ever gained a reputation as a preacher 
more fairly than Dr. Payson ; few men ever earned — if the 
expression is allowable — more success. We have no need to 
call in the aid of magic, to account for the amazing influence 
which he exerted as a minister of Christ. This is best done by 
the simple history of the man — by a familiar acquaintance with 
what he was, and what he did. The foundation of his emi- 
nence, and of his influence, was laid in a deep, experimental 
knowledge of those spiritual subjects which constituted the 
themes of his addresses to his fellow-men. This quality of a 
religious teacher has been well presented, and its influence 
illustrated, by a reviewer of his sermons in the Christian Spec- 
tator. Speaking of Dr. Payson, he remarks : — 

" Like the beloved apostle, whom he somewhat resembled in 
the strength of his imagination, and in the afllections of his 
heart, he speaks as if from actual observation. In perusing 
these sermons, it seems as if their author had actually seen with 
his own eyes the spiritual objects he describes, — that he had 
actually heard from Christ, talking with him face to face, the 



448 



MEMOIR OF 



truths which he declares. The man Avho has thus seen spirit- 
ual objects with the clear eye of faith, is acquainted with them 
in their minutest parts, and can therefore communicate instruc- 
tion respecting them with a familiarity, clearness, and impres- 
sive interest, v/hich we in vain look for in any other. He 
not only carj present a general outline, bat he can fill up 
the picture with, what his own eyes have seen. When he men- 
tions faith and repentance, he speaks as one who has looked 
upon the very objects towards which these graces are directed ; 
and he is therefore able to make others see the same objects 
likewise, and to feel as he has himself felt towards them. When 
he speaks of God, he speaks as if he had walked with him, 
and knew him intimately. When he describes the character of 
Christ, he describes it as if he had followed him closely, and 
knew exactly how he walked. He speaks of the Holy Ghost, 
as if he had felt his power upon his own soul, in his convincing 
and sanctifying influences. He speaks of hell, as if he himself 
had looked with agonizing fears through all its gloomy caverns. 
He speaks of heaven, as if he had, like Paul, been transported 
to the third heavens, and heard unspeakable words. There are 
many passages in his sermons, in which his vision of heaven 
seems to be nearly as distinct as that which he enjoyed just 
before his death, as described in a letter to his sister. 

•^ '^ -i£? -it- -it- -^t -^ 

^ *^ -Tr TV TV- '^ "TV* 

" The man who has had such visions of heaven, will speak 
of eternal realities with a truth that others will strive in vain to 
imitate ; and he will be listened to with the same deep feeling 
which the words of one would create, who had actually risen 
from the grave, and come back to his brethren of the human 
family, to give them an account of the secrets of the invisible 
world." 

His topics embraced the whole range of scriptural subjects. 
He had no hackneyed theme, no wearisome monotonousness of 
manner in treating it. Those subjects, for the recurrence of 
which there was the most frequent occasion — such, for instance, 
as relate to the Saviour's death, which was commemorated 
monthly by his church — never lost any of their interest under 
his treatment ; but were made to awaken a new train of thought 
and reflection, or were presented in some new relation. Christ 



EDWARD PAYSON. 449 

crucified was, indeed, an exhaustless theme. It was the "life 
of all his preaching. He every where gives most exalted views 
of Christ, beholding and declaring him as 'God manifested in 
the flesh,' and invested with all the prerogatives and glories of 
Mediatorship. He sought continually to bring Christ before 
the eyes of sinners, for whom he had suffered, bled, and died. 
Christ was the sun of his system; he referred every thing to 
him, and showed all truth, duty, hope, privilege, and happiness, 
as related to him. In a word, as Christ was every thing to his 
feelings, as a humble truster in his mercy, so he was every thing 
in the instructions which he imparted, as his minister. He had 
none of that affected scrupulousness of an erroneous conscience, 
which professes to shrink from giving to Christ ' the glory due 
unto his name.' Him, as 'without controversy' the 'brightness 
of the Father's glory, the express image of his person,' and 
who is 'over all, God, blessed for ever,' he loved to worship, 
honor, preach, and show to dying men, as the 'confidence of all 
the ends of the earth.' "* 

Dr. Payson was a preacher whom none could hear with in- 
difference. His discrimination of characters, and adaptation of 
truth to the different classes of hearers ; his skill in guiding the 
sword of the Spirit so as to pierce the consciences of the impeni- 
tent, rendered it impossible for them to hear him unmoved. 
" He showed an intimacy in the secret chambers of the human 
heart, such as is gained only by much self-acquaintance, and 
accurate observation of men ; analyzed the operations of the 
unsanctified will and affections with peculiar skill ; told the 
sinner, with startling particularity, of things that passed in his 
breast: followed him into his hiding places, to allure and warn 
him away; stated, with unshrinking faithfulness, humbling 
facts respecting his motives of action ; described his errors and 
self-deceptions with a fairness and exactness which could not 
easily be disputed ; showed the hazards of his unscriptural de- 
pendences ; and, in the full blaze of Scripture light, set forth all 
the dangers and guilt of self-delusion." ^ If they went away 
from the sanctuary " filled with wrath," and determined to heai 
him no more, the resolution was but a thread of tow amidst 
the fires of conscience. 

* Spirit of the Pilgrims. 
TOL. L 57 



450 MEMOIR OF 

" The preaching of Dr. Payson was well adapted to * feed the 
church of God,' and to promote the advancement of Christians 
in the divine life. With him this was an object of more than 
common thought and labor. Bunyan's character of Great 
Heart exhibits the qualifications of the spiritual Shepherd in 
an interesting manner, and many of the features of it were dis- 
cernible in the discourses of Dr. Payson. To elevate and en- 
liven the faith of Christians, to increase the fervor of their love, 
to assist them to obtain and keep lowly views of themselves, to 
promote the tenderness of godly sorrow, and likewise to ani- 
mate their joys, confirm their hopes, promote the increase and 
steadiness of their comforts, and to incite them to press forward 
and mount upward in their preparation for heaven, were the 
objects of much of his preaching. He sought to promote in 
Christians the progress and enjoyments of holiness in heart and 
life. He loved to witness Christian activity and faithfulness, 
and preached a religion to be lived, and which would make its 
possessors t» shine as lights in the world. He had his heart 
fixed on the promotion, in himself and others, of holiness, ele- 
vated, dwelling in daily communion with God, and made active 
in view of the cross of Christ, of the judgment to come, and of 
the prospect of heaven. And his conceptions of the obligations 
resting on the people of God to live in the exercise of such ho- 
liness, were vivid and solemn. The views he was accustomed 
to give of Christian character were not of that well adjusted 
' form of godliness,' in which ' a name to live ' may be preserv- 
ed ; but he exhibited the Christian of the Bible, loving holiness 
and seeking it, hating sin and flying from it ; he brought out 
the elements of grace, as to be manifested in living and active 
faithfulness." * 

He was distinguished for his " entire devotedness to the spir- 
itual welfare of his hearers. He might have had a practical 
acquaintance with the truths of the Christian religion, and skill 
in selecting those truths that are adapted to the character of his 
hearers, and a powerful imagination in presenting those truths 
in such a manner as to make an impression ; still, without this 
devotedness of feeling to the spiritual welfare of his hearers, he 
I never could have exerted that moral power upon their miadls, 

* Spirit of the Pilgrims. 



EDWARD PAYSON. 451 

which attended his ministrations. It has ever been true, that 
those who have distinguished themselves on the broad theatre 
of human exertion, in arts, in arms, in science, and in moral 
enterprise, have likewise been distinguished for the enthusiasm 
with which they have followed the object of their pursuit. 
Such a state of mind quickens the intellect ; for it has almost 
passed into a maxiin with the masters of mental science, that the 
conceptions are vivid in proportion to the excitement of the 
feelings. It moreover renders the mind ingenious in discover- 
ing and creating means for the accomplishment of the object ; 
' Love will find a way ;' and it likewise prompts to persever- 
ance in the application of these means. His sermons were 
prepared under the influence of an intense desire to be instru- 
mental in leading his people to the cross of Christ for salvation. 
To accompHsh this, all the faculties of his soul were concentrat- 
ed ; when he knelt at the mercy-seat, his people were earnestly 
commended to God; when he looked abroad on nature, that 
other book of God's revelation, he was always in search of mo- 
tives to duty ; when he was engaged in severe study, or in 
reading books of taste, he was still aiming, either directly or 
indirectly, at promoting the spiritual welfare of his people, 
that 'by any means he might win some.' Every thing was 
subservient to this object. Having a full heart and a full mind, 
persuasion dwelt upon his lips. He felt emotion, and therefore 
expressed it. His heart is always awake. His zeal for the 
house of God glowed in his breast like a consuming passion ; it 
wasted the powers of life." ^ 

That his mode of exhibiting the truths of the gospel was 
pre-eminently felicitous, we have one very pleasing proof in the 
tenacity with which his instructions are remembered, f This 
testimony to the completeness of his qualifications, " as a 
workman that needed not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the 
word of truth," still exists in hundreds of hearts. " His words 

* Christian Spectator, 

t The editor of his posthumous sermons, during the progress of the vol- 
ume, in answering inquuies respecting them, was frequently interrupted 
with — "I hope such a sermon will be one" — the subject being named at 
the same time. This wish was heard, not fi-om the inhabitants of Portland 
only, but from others, who had changed this residence for another, from five 
to fifteen years before. 



i52 



MEMOIR OF 



were as nails fastened in a sure place, leaving stings in the 
mind, and bidding defiance even to a bad memory to forget." 
A specimen of his pulpit discourses is before the public, and 
will speak their own defence. That they want much, which 
gave them interest and effect in the delivery, is known by all 
who knew him. A ministering brother, at a distance, after he 
had read the volume, thus wrote — "That speaking eye, and 
thrilling tone, and those flashes of holy fire, and that counte- 
nance, which at times seemed more than mortal, I do not 
indeed find. Probably most of those glowing illustrations and 
irresistible appeals were made, even when he had a written dis- 
course before him, from the inspiration of the moment. Still 
there is so much of the original in these pieces, that the linea- 
ments of his celestial soul can be easily traced. His eloquence 
was, in the language of Milton, " the serious and hearty love 
of truth ; his mind fully possessed with a fervent desire to know 
good things, and with the dearest charity to infuse the knowl- 
edge of them into others. When such a man would speak, his 
words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him 
at command, and in well-ordered files, as he would wish, fall 
aptly into their own places." 

The amount of service which he was enabled to perform is 
not the least surprising fact in his history. Almost continually 
sinking under the exhausting efiects of a diseased and debilita- 
ted frame, he was, nevertheless, "in labors more abundant" 
than most who have no such infirmities to depress them. That 
he ventured beyond his strength, and often exceeded the bounds 
of prudence and duty, is very true ; but it was, on the whole, a wise 
and happy arrangement of Providence, which assigned him his 
station where the calls to exertion were frequent and urgent. The 
regret which it is impossible not to feel at his premature depar- 
ture, hastened as it was by his incessant toils, mental and 
bodily, in his Master's cause, is alleviated by the reflection, 
that, with his constitution and susceptibilities, a moderate de- 
gree of exertion was incompatible. Beyond all doubt, his life, 
if passed in a state of comparative inaction, would have much 
sooner terminated : his sun might have set in darkness, and the 
remembrance of him perished from the earth. But God had 
" provided better things for him," and his memory is blessed. 

That he had preached the gospel fully and faithfully, not 



EDWARD PAYSON. 453 

shunning to declare the whole counsel of God, he had the testi- 
mony of his conscience, in the near prospect of the last tribu- 
nal. To repeated interrogatories in relation to this point, his 
answers were full and unequivocal. 

The religion which he preached and exemplified in life sus- 
tained him in the hour when flesh and heart failed, and shed 
unclouded light on his passage to the unseen world. And shall 
we say — we here borrow the language employed by a valued 
brother on occasion of his death — " Shall we say that all this 
was delusion, and an unsubstantial vision ? Shall we imagine 
that this most active mind is now extinct 7 that this servant and 
friend of Jesus Christ is annihilated, is lost ? Has the tempest 
stolen him away ? Long tossed on the billows, has he been swal- 
lowed up by the deep ? Oh, no ! But, as God is true, we be- 
lieve he has entered a secure haven, where the storm is not 
heard, — where the agitation of the elements is not felt, — where 
no wave of trouble ever breaks upon the peaceful shore — where 
not a ripple disturbs the deep serenity, which reflects to the as- 
tonished eye the beauty, and brightness, and majesty of the 
skies." 



^'behold thy mother." 
The scene at the death-bed of Dr. Payson, described on page 
424, has been happily expanded in the following beautiful lines, 
from the chaste and fruitful pen of Mrs. Sigourney. The eldest 
son, in this case, is not the eldest child ; but who can regret an 
innocent mistake, which has furnished the occasion of so much 
tenderness and beauty? 

What said the eye ? — The marble lip spake not, 

Save in that quivering sob with which stern Death 

Doth crush hfe's harp-strings. Lo ! again it pours 

A tide of more than utter*!! eloquence — 

" Son ! — look upon thy mother !" — and retires 

Beneath the curtain of the drooping lids, 

To hide itself forever. 'Tis the last, 

Last glance ! — and mark how tenderly it fell 

Upon that lov'd companion, and the groups 

That wept around. Full well the dying knew 

The value of those holy charities 

Which purge the dross of selfishness away ; 



454 MEMOIR OF 

And deep he felt that woman's tinisting heart 

Rent from the cherish'd prop, which, next to Christ, 

Had been her stay in all adversities, 

Would take the balm-cup best from that dear hand 

Which woke the sources of maternal love, — 

That smile, whose winning paid for sleepless nights 

Of cradle-care, — that voice, whose murmured tones 

Her own had moulded to the words of prayer. — 

How soothing to a widow'd mother's breast 

Her first-bom's sympathy ! 

Be strong, young man ! — 
Lift the protector's arm, — the healer's prayer ! — 
Be tender in thy every word and deed. 
A spirit watcheth thee ! — Yes, he who pass'd 
Fit)m shaded earth up to the full-orb'd day, 
Will be thy witness in the court of heaven 
How thou dost bear his mantle. 

So farewell, 
Leader in Israel ! — Thou whose radiant path 
Was like the angel's standing in the sun, * 
B^ndazzled and unswerving, — it was meet 
That thou shouldst rise to hght without a cloud. 

* Revelation, xix. 17. 



SELECTIONS 

FROM THE 

CONVERSATIONS 

AND 

TJNPUBLISHED WRITINGS 



OF 



REV. EDWARD PAYSON, D. D 



Remember the words that I spake unto you, while I waa yet present with jovi.— Memoir, p. 424. 



PREFACE. 



Soon after the publication of my father's Memoir, the 
design was formed of preparing a small volume of se- 
lections from his remembered conversations, addresses 
at private meetings, Bible classes, etc. As the materi- 
als which could be collected in this way proved entirely 
insufficient, it was thought best to complete the work, 
as nearly as possible in conformity with the original 
design, by making extracts from his unpublished dis- 
courses ; and this has accordingly been done. In regard 
to those portions which were written from memory, it is 
not presumed that the precise language employed has, 
in any instance, been preserved. There has been an 
endeavor to secure variety in the selections, which are 
arranged with reference to the progress of a mind, from 
impenitence and unbelief, through the diflferent stages 
of conviction, to faith and confirmed hope. None of 
the extracts have before appeared in print. They are 
given to the public in the earnest hope, that they may 
be instrumental in accomplishing the wish so often ex- 
pressed by their author, that he might '*be permitted 
to do good with his pen, when his tongue should be si- 
lent in death." L. S. P. 



SELECT THOUGHTS. 



GOD 



How much this title impUes, no tongue, human or angeUc, 
can ever express ; no mind conceive. It is a volume of an in- 
finite number of leaves, and every leaf full of meaning. It will 
be read by saints and angels, through the ages of eternity, but 
they will never reach the last leaf, nor fuUy comprehend the 
meaning of a single page. 

Look back to the time when God existed independent and 
alone ; when there was nothing but God; no heavens, no earth, 
uo angels, no men. How wretched should we, how wretched 
would any creatmre be, in such a situation ! But Jehovah was 
then infinitely happy — happy beyond all possibility of increase. 
He is an overflowing fountain, a bottomless and shoreless ocean, 
of being, perfection, and happiness ; and when this infinite ocean 
overflows, suns and worlds, angels and men, start into existence. 

I would ask you to pause and contemplate, for a moment, this 
wonderful Being. But where shall we stand to take a view of 
him] When we wish to contemplate the ocean, we take our 
stand upon its shore. But this infinite ocean of being and per- 
fection has no shore. There is no place where we can stand to 
look at him, for he is in us, around us, above us, below us. Yet, 
in another sense, there is no place where we may not look at 
him, for he is every where. We see nothing which he has not 
made, no motion which he does not cause; for he is all, and in 
all, and above all, God over all, blessed forever. Even he him- 



460 LOVE OF GOD. 

self cannot tell us fully what he is, for our minds cannot take 
it in. He can only say to us, I am that I am. I am Jehovah. 

ETER NIT Y OF GOD. 

Try, for a moment, to conceive of a Being without a begin- 
ning; a Being who does not become older as ages roll away. 
Fly back, in imagination, millions of millions of millions of years, 
till reason is confounded, and fancy wearied in the flight. God 
then existed, and, what may at first appear paradoxical, he had 
then existed as long as he has now ; you would then be no nearer 
the beginning of his existence than you are now, for it has no 
beginning, and you cannot approach to that which does not 
exist. Nor will his being ever come to an end. Add together 
ages of ages ; multiply them by the leaves on the trees, the sand 
on the sea-shore, and the dust of the earth, still you will be no 
nearer the termination of Jehovah's existence, than when you 
first began your calculation. And let us remember that the 
duration of his existence is the only measure of our own. As 
it respects futurity, we are all as immortal as Jehovah himself. 

LOVE OF GOD. 

In the words, "God is love," we have a perfect portrait of the 
eternal and incomprehensible Jehovah, drawn by his own un- 
erring hand. The mode of expression here adopted, diff'ers ma- 
terially from that usually employed by the inspired writers, in 
speaking of the divine perfections. They say, God is merciful, 
God is just, God is holy ; but never do they say, God is mercy, 
God is justice, God is holiness. In this instance, on the contrary, 
. the apostle, instead of saying, God is loving, or good, or kind, 
says, God is love, love itself. By this expression we must un- 
derstand that God is all pure, unmixed love, and that the other 
moral perfections of his character are only so many modifica- 
tions of this love. Thus his justice, his mercy, his truth, his 
faithfulness, are but so many different names of his love or 
goodness. As the light which proceeds from the sun may easily 
be separated into many difierent colors, so the holy love of God, 
which is the light and glory of his nature* may be separated into 
a variety of moral attributes and perfections. But, though 
separated, they are still love. His whole nature and essence 



LIVING TO GOD 



461 



are love; his will, his works, and his words, are love; he is 
nothing, can do nothing but love. 

WISDOM OF GOD. 

Often when the church thinks itself in the most imminent 
danger, when its friends are ready «to cry in despair, All these 
things are against us, our destruction is inevitable; angels are 
lost in wonder in view of the means which divine wisdom is, 
even then, employing to effect its deliverance and turn its des- 
pondency into triumph. For some thousands of years they have 
been contemplating this spectacle ; their knowledge and their 
admiration of God's wisdom have been continually increasing, 
and yet every day they learn something new, every day they 
see new proofs that Jehovah is indeed the all-wise God; that 
his resources are inexhaustible; that he can never be at a loss; 
and that he can effect the same object in numberless different 
ways, and by the use of the most improbable means. 

DUTY OF LIVINGTO T H E G L O R Y O F G O D , 

We w^ere created and redeemed for the sole purpose of prais- 
ing and glorifying our Creator ; and if we refuse or neglect to do 
this, we transgress the great law of creation, frustrate the end 
of existence, leave unperformed the work for which we were 
made, and do all in our power to prove that we were created in 
vain, and to cause God to repent of having made us. Should 
the sun refuse to shine; should the showers refuse to descend; 
should the earth refuse to bring forth food; or should trees in a 
fruitful soil continue barren — would you not say that it was 
contrary to nature and to the design of their creation; and that 
since they no longer fulfilled this design, they might properly be 
reduced to nothing again? And do you not see that while you 
refuse to praise God, your conduct is equally unnatural, and 
that you may justly be made the monuments of his everlasting 
displeasure ? What would only be unnatural in inanimate crea- 
tures, is the height of folly and wickedness in us; because we 
are capable of knowing our duty, and are under innumerable 
obligations to practise it. Let the sun then refuse to shine, the 
showers to descend, and the earth to be fruitful; but let not ra- 
tional creatures refuse to praise their Creator, since it is the pur- 
pose for which they were created. 



462 REVERENCE FOR GOD. 

HOW CAN CREATURES GLORIFY G d7 

If it be asked how creatures so feeble and ungrateful as we 
are, can glorify God, I answer, by conducting in such a manner 
as naturally tends to make him appear glorious, amiable and 
excellent in the view of his creatures. A son, for instance, hon- 
ors his parents, when he evMently loves, reverences, confides in, 
and obeys them; because such conduct tends to make those 
who know him think favorably of his parents. A subject hon- 
ors his sovereign when he cheerfully submits to his authority, 
and appears to be contented and happ}?- in his government; be- 
cause this tends to give others a favorable opinion of his sover- 
eign. So men honor and glorify God, when they show by their 
conduct that they consider him the most perfect and best of 
beings, and love, reverence and confide in him as such; for these 
things naturally tend to excite a high estimation of God, in the 
minds of their fellow creatures. 

REVERENCE FOR GOD. 

With what profound veneration does it become us to enter the 
presence, and to receive the favors of the awful Majesty of 
heaven and earth! And how ought we to dread grieving or 
offending goodness so great, so glorious, so venerable! To 
illustrate this remark, suppose that the sun, whose brightness, 
even at this distance, you cannot gaze upon without shrinking, 
were an animated, intelligent body; and that, with a design to 
do you good, he should leave his place in the heavens, and 
gradually approach you. As he drew more and more near, his 
apparent magnitude and effulgence would every moment in- 
crease; he would occupy a larger and larger portion of the 
visible heavens, until at length all other objects would be lost, 
and yourselves swallowed up in one insufferably dazzling, over- 
powering flood of light. Would you not, in such circumstances, 
feel the strongest emotions of awe, of something like fear? 
Would a knowledge that the glorious luminary was approaching 
with a benevolent design for your good, banish these emotions'? 
What, then, ought to be the feelings of a sinful worm of the 
dust, when the Father of lights, the eternal Sun of the universe, 
who dwells in the high and holy place, and in the contrite heart, 
stoops from his awful throne, to visit him, to smile upon him, 



DUTY OF LOVING GOD. 463 

to pardon him, to purify him from his moral defilement, to adopt 
him as a child, to make him an heir of heaven, to take posses- 
sion of his heart as his earthly habitation? 

DUTY OF LOVING GOD. 

We ought to love God because he has given us the power to 
love. He might have formed us gloomy, morose, misanthropic 
beings, destitute of all the social affections ; without the power 
of loving any object, and strangers to the happiness of being 
beloved. Should God withdraw into himself, not only all the 
amiable qualities which excite love, but the very power of 
loving, would vanish from the world, and we should not only, 
like the evil spirits, become perfectly hateful, but should, like 
them, hate one another. 

Every object which can be presented to us has a claim on our 
affections corresponding to its character. If any object be ad- 
mirable, it possesses a natural and inherent claim to our admi- 
ration ; if it be venerable, it has a claim to our reverence ; if it 
be terrible, it demands our fear ; if it be beautiful and amiable, 
it claims and deserves our love. But God is perfectly and infi- 
nitely lovely ; nay, he is excellence and loveliness itself If 
you doubt this, ask those who can tell you. Ask Christ, who 
is in the bosom of the Father, and he will tell you that God is 
infinitely lovely. Ask the holy angels, who dwell in his imme- 
diate presence, and they will tell you that he is lovely beyond 
all that even angelic minds can conceive. Ask good men in all 
ages, and they will lament that they cannot tell you how amia- 
ble and excellent Jehovah is. Ask every thing beautiful and 
amiable in the universe, and it will tell you that all its beauty 
is but a faint reflection of his. If all this does not satisfy you, 
ask the spirits of disobedience ; and they, though filled with 
malice and rage against him, will tell, if you can constrain them 
to speak, that the Being they hate is lovely, and that it consti- 
tutes the essence of their misery that they can find no blemish 
in his character. But if God be thus infinitely lovely, we are 
under infinite obligations to love him ; obligations from which 
he himself cannot release us but by altering his character, and 
ceasing to be lovely. 



464 EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 

FOLLY OF PREFERRING CREATURES TO GOD. 

Would you not consider a person foolish and absurd, who 
should extravagantly love and prize a drop of stagnant water, 
and yet view the ocean with indifference or disgust 7 or who 
should constantly grovel in the dust to admire a shining grain 
of sand, yet neglect to admire the sun which caused it to shine 1 
Of what folly and absurdity, then, are we guilty, when we love 
the imperfectly amiable qualities of our fellow worms, or admire 
the sublimity and beauty of the works of nature, and yet exer- 
cise no love to him to whom they are indebted for all ; him 
whose glory gilds the heavens, and from whom angels derive 
every thing that can excite admiration or love. 

GOD THE ONLY SOURCE OF EXCELLENCE. 

God only, the Father of lights, from whom cometh down 
every good and perfect gift, makes one creature to differ from 
another. They are wise only by his wisdom, strong in his 
strength, and good in his goodness. He is more entirely the 
Author of every thing good in heaven and on earth, than the 
sun is the author of that image of himself which is seen in a 
mirror. When creatures acknowledge this, and ascribe all the 
excellences they possess to him alone, they then, in the language 
of Scripture, bring forth fruit, not to themselves, but to his glory. 

God is the source of every thing excellent or praiseworthy in 
the intellectual world. To him angels and men are alike in- 
debted for all their faculties. Reason, memory, wit, prudence, 
invention and imagination, are only his gifts. The statesman, 
the warrior, the mathematician, the poet, the orator, the histo- 
rian, the astronomer, the painter, and the sculptor, all were 
formed, instructed and directed by him. By his assistance, all 
the great enterprises, splendid achievements and admirable works 
which the world ever saw, Avere performed. It is he, says Da- 
vid, who teaches my hands to war, and my fingers to fight. It 
was he who guided Columbus to the discovery of this new 
world. It was he who qualified our revered Washington for 
the great work of delivering his country, and assisted him in its 
accomplishment. And while we admire the gifts of God in 
men, shall we not admire the Giver? While we admire the 



SUBMISSION TO GOD. 465 

achievements, enterprises and works of men, shall we not ad- 
mire him who enabled men to perform them ? Shall we rest in 
streams, and admire them only, without praising the fountain ? 
Surely this is highly unreasonable. 

DUTY OF SUBMISSION TO THE WILL OF GOD. 

Suppose that the members of our bodies, instead of being 
controlled by the will of the head, had each a separate, inde- 
pendent will of its own : would they not, in this case, become 
useless and even mischievous 7 Something like this, you are 
sensible, occasionally takes place. In certain diseases, the mem- 
bers seem to escape from the control of the will, and act as if 
they were governed by a separate will of their own. When 
this is the case, terrible consequences often ensue. The teeth 
shut suddenly and violently, and lacerate the tongue ; the ele- 
vated hands beat the face and other parts of the body ; the feet 
refuse to*support it, and it rolls in the dust a melancholy and 
frightful spectacle. Such effects we call convulsions. There 
are convulsions in the moral as well as in the natural world, 
and they take place when the will of man refuses to be controlled 
by the will of God. Did all men submit cordially to his will, 
they would live together in love and harmony, and, like the 
members of a healthy body, would all promote each other's 
welfare, and that of the whole system. But they have refused 
to obey his will, and have set up their own wills in opposition 
to it ; and what has been the consequence ? Convulsions, most 
terrible convulsions, which have, in ten thousand thousand in- 
stances, led one member of this great body to injure another ; 
and not only disturbed but almost destroyed the peace of society. 
What are wars, insurrections, revolutions 7 What are robberies, 
piracies, murders, but convulsions in the moral world 7 convul- 
sions which would never have occurred, had not the will of man 
refused to submit to the will of God. And never will these 
convulsions cease, never will universal love, and peace and 
happiness prevail, until the rebellious will of man shall again 
submit to the controlling will of God, and his will shall be done 
on earth as it is in heaven. 

If all mankind could be persuaded to say. Not as I will, but 
VOL. I. 59 



466 SUBMISSION TO GOD. 

as thou wilt, as sincerely as Christ said it, sin would that mo- 
ment cease to exist in the world, God and men would be per- 
fectly reconciled, and his will would be done on earth as it is in 
heaven. Yes, let every human being only say to God, with his 
whole heart, Not my will but thine be done, and holiness and 
happiness would instantly fill the world; men would be em- 
bodied angels, and earth would become a sublunary heaven. 

I look up to heaven, and there see the blessed and only 
Potentate, the Creator and Upholder of all things, the infinite 
and eternal Sovereign of the universe, governing his vast king- 
dom with uncontrollable power, in a manner perfectly wise, 
and holy, and just, and good. In this Being I see my Creator, 
my Preserver, my unwearied Benefactor, to whom I am in- 
debted for every thing which 1 possess. And what does this 
being see, what has he seen, in me 7 He sees a frail worm of 
the dust, who is of yesterday, and knows nothing, who cannot 
take a single step without making mistakes, who is wholly in- 
competent to guide himself, and who, by his own folly, is 
self-destroyed. He has seen this frail, blind, erring worm, 
presumptuously daring to criticise and censure his proceedings, 
to interfere in his government of the universe, and to set up his 
own perverse will against the will of his Creator, his Sovereign, 
and his God; his own ignorance against divine omniscience, 
and his own folly against infinite wisdom. This he has seen 
in me, and this he has seen in you; and who, that believes God' 
has seen this in him, can avoid feeling overwhelmed with sor- 
row, and shame, and remorse? We may say what we please 
of the difliculty of repenting, but it would seem to be a thousand 
fold more difficult to refrain from repenting, after having been 
guilty of conduct like this. O, then, come and perform this 
easy, this most reasonable duty. Come, and repent, before God, 
of your disobedience and opposition to his will, receive through 
Christ a free and gracious pardon, and then learn of him who 
was meek and lowly in heart, to say. Father, not my will, but 
thine, bo done. 

Should an angel who knew nothing of our characters, but 
who had heard of the blessings which God has bestowed on us, 
visit this world, would he not expect to find every part of it 



NECESSITY OF SUBMISSION, 467 

resounding with the praises of God and his love ? Would he 
not expect to hear old and young, parents and children, all bles- 
sing God for the glad tidings of the gospel, and crying. Hosanna 
to the son of David ? How, then, would he be grieved and 
disappointed ! How astonished to find that Being whom he 
had ever heard praised in the most rapturous strains by all the 
bright armies of heaven, slighted, disobeyed, and dishonored, 
by his creatures on earth ! Would you not be ashamed, would 
you not blush to look such a visitor in the face ? to tell him how 
little you have done for God, tell him that you are not one of 
his servants 7 O, then, let us strive to wipe away this foul 
stain, this disgrace to our race and our world. Let not this 
world be the only place, except hell, where God is not praised. 
Let us not be the only creatures, except devils, who refuse to 
praise him. 

ALL MEN THE SUBJECTS OF CHRIST. 

The subjects of Christ's mediatorial kingdom are divided into 
two grand classes — those who are obedient, and those who are 
rebelUous. The former class is composed of good men and 
angels, the latter of wicked men and devils. The former serves 
Christ willingly and cheerfully. He rules them with the golden 
sceptre of love ; his law is written in their hearts ; they esteem 
his yoke easy and his burden light, and habitually execute his 
will. All the bright armies of heaven, angels and archangels, 
who excel in strength, are his servants, and go forth at his com- 
mand, as messengers of love, to minister to the heirs of salva- 
tion, or as messengers of wrath to execute vengeance on his 
enemies. Nor are his obedient subjects to be found only in 
heaven. In this world, also, the standard of the cross, the 
banner of his love, is erected, and thousands and millions, who 
were once his enemies, have been brought willing captives to 
his feet, have joyfully acknowledged him as their Master and 
Lord, and sworn allegiance to him as the Author of their salva- 
tion. Nor is his authority less absolute over the second class of 
his subjects, who still persist in their rebeUion. In vain do they 
say, We will not have this man to reign over us. He rules 
them with a rod of iron, causes even their wrath to praise him, 
and makes them the involuntary instruments of carrying on his 
great designs. He holds all the infernal spirits in a chain, gov- 



468 SIN OF UNBELIEF. 

ems the conquerors, monarchs and great ones of the earth, and 
in all things wherein they deal proudly, he is still above them. 
In one or the other of these ways, all must serve Christ. Is it 
not better to serve him willingly, and be rewarded, than to 
serve him reluctantly, and be destroyed 7 

SINFULNESS OF UNBELIEF. 

The reason why persons who appear to be in some measure 
convinced of sin, so often lose tb^r convictions ; and why so 
many professors of religion fall away and disgrace their profes- 
sion, is, because the work of conviction was never thoroughly 
performed ; because they were never convinced of unbelief — 
They saw, perhaps, that they were sinners. They felt convin- 
ced of many sins in their tempers and conduct : they in some 
measure corrected and laid aide these sins ; then their conscien- 
ces ceased to reproach them, and they flattered themselves' that 
they had become new creatures. But, meanwhile, they knew 
nothing of the great sin of unbelief, and therefore never confes- 
sed, repented of, or forsook it, until it proved their destruction. 
They were like a man who should go to a physician to be heal- 
ed of some slight external wound, while he knew nothing of a 
deep-rooted disease which was preying upon his vitals. Profes- 
sors, try yourselves by these remarks. Look back to the time 
when you imagined yourselves to be convinced of sin, and say 
whether you were then convinced, or whether you have at any 
time since been convinced of the exceeding sinfulness of unbe- 
lief If not, there is great reason to fear that you are deceived, 
that you have mistaken the form for the power of godliness. 

It is God's invariable method to humble before he exalts; to 
show us our diseases before he heals them ; to convince us that 
we are sinners before he pronounces our pardon. When, there- 
fore, the Spirit of all grace and consolation comes to comfort 
and sanctify a sinner, he begins by acting the part of a reprover, 
and thus convincing him of sin. The sin of which he more 
particularly aims to convince him is unbelief He shall reprove 
the world of sin, says our Saviour. Why? Because they are 
murderers, thieves, or adulterers? No, Because they are 
guilty of slander, fraud, or extortion ? No. Because they are 
intemperate, dissipated, or sensual? No. Because they a^'e 



HUMAN DEPRAVITY. 469 

envious, malicious, or revengeful 7 No ; but because they are 
unbelievers, because they believe not on me. 

If there is one fact, or doctrine, or promise in the Bible, which 
has produced no practical effect upon your temper or conduct, be 
assured that you do not truly believe it. 

CONDUCT OF MEN TOWARDS THEIR MAKER. 

Mankind seem to consider God as a sort of outlaw, who has 
no rights ; or, at least, as one whose rights may be disregarded 
and trampled on at pleasure. They allow that promises made 
to each other ought to be fulfilled ; but they violate, without 
scruple, those promises which they often make to God, in an 
hour of seriousness, sickness, or affliction. They allow that 
earthly rulers ought to be obeyed, but they seem to think that 
no obedience is due to the Sovereign Ruler of the universe. 
They allow that children ought to love, honor, and submit to 
their parents ; but they do not appear to think that either love, 
honor, or submission, should be paid to our Father in heaven. 
They allow that gratitude is due to human benefactors, and 
that to requite their favors with ingratitude, is a proof of abom- 
inable wickedness ; but they practically deny that any grateful 
return should be made to our heavenly Benefactor for his innu- 
merable benefits, and seem to consider the blackest ingratitude 
towards him as scarcely a sin. 

When a son forsakes his father's house ; when he refuses to 
comply with his entreaties to return ; when he chooses to endure 
all the evils of poverty rather than return, — we are ready to 
suspect that his father must be a very disagreeable, unlovely, 
or cruel character, since his own children cannot live with him. 
At least, we shall think this imless we have a very bad opinion 
of the son. We must condemn one or the other. So, when 
God's own creatures, whom he has nourished and brought up as 
children, forsake him, and refuse to return or be reconciled, it 
gives other beings cause to suspect that he must be a very cruel, 
unlovely being ; and they must either conclude that he is so, 
or form a very bad opinion of us. Now, sinners will not allow 
that the fault is theirs ; of course they throw all the blame upon 
their Creator, and represent him as such an unkind, cruel Pa- 



470 ROBBING GOD. LOVE OF THE WORLD. 

rent, that his children cannot live with or please him. It is true, 
God has power to vindicate his own character, and to show the 
universe that the fault is wholly ours. But this is no thanks to 
us. The tendency of our conduct is still the same ; it still tends 
to load his character with the blackest infamy and disgrace. 
This is all the return we make him for giving us existence. 
Thus do ye requite the Lord, O foolish people, and unwise. 

Will a man rob God ? Yet ye have robbed me. It is evi- 
dent that you withhold your hearts from God ; or, in other 
words, rob him of your affections, the very thing which he 
principally desires. And is this a small offence? Should a 
person rob you of the affection and esteem of the partner of 
your bosom, of your children, or your friends, would you not 
think it a great injury 7 Would it not in many instances be 
worse than robbing you of your property 7 And is it, then, a 
trifling offence for intelligent creatures to rob their Creator, 
Father and benefactor, of that supreme place in their affections 
to which he has a most perfect right, and which he prizes above 
every thing they possess 7 

The world is, in some form or other, the great Diana, the 
grand idol of all its inhabitants, so long as they continue in 
their natural sinful state. They bow down to it ; they worship 
it ; they spend and are spent for it ; they educate their children 
in its service ; their hearts, their minds, their memories, their 
imaginations, are full of it ; their tongues speak of it ; their 
hands grasp it ; their feet pursue it. In a word, it is all in all 
to them, while they give scarcely a word, a look, or a thought 
to him who made and preserves them ; and who is really all in 
all. Thus men rob God of their bodies and spirits, which are 
his, and practically say, We are our own ; who is Lord over us 7 

From the manner in which we habitually treat the Bible, we 
may learn what are our feelings and dispositions towards God ; 
for as we treat the word of God, so should we treat God him- 
self, were he to come and reside among us, in a human form, as 
he once dwelt on earth in the form of his Son. The contents 
of Scripture are a perfect transcript of the divine mind. If, 
then, God should come to dwell among us, he would teach the 



NEGLECT OF THE BIBLE AND PRAYER. 471 

same things that the Scriptures teach, and pronounce upon us 
the same sentence which they pronounce. We should therefore 
feel towards him as we now feel towards them. If we rever- 
ence, and love, and obey the Scriptures, then we should rever- 
ence, love and obey God. But if we dislike or disbelieve the 
Scriptures, if we seldom study them, or read them only with 
indifference and neglect, we should treat God in the same man- 
ner. Never would he be a welcome guest in a family where 
his word is neglected. 

LANGUAGE OF THOSE WHO NEGLECT THE BIBLE. 

No man will ever voluntarily neglect to make himself ac- 
quainted with the contents of a message sent to him by one 
whom he acknowledges as his superior, or on whom he feels 
himself to be dependent. Let a subject receive a communication 
from his acknowledged sovereign, and as it claims, so it will re- 
ceive his immediate attention. Nor will he, especially if it 
contains various and important instructions, think a hasty 
perusal of it sufficient. No, he will study it till he feels confi- 
dent that he is acquainted with its contents, and understands 
their import. At least equally certain, and equally evident is 
it, that every man whose heart acknowledges God to be his 
rightful Sovereign, and who believes that the Scriptures contain a 
revelation from him, will study them attentively, study them 
till he feels confident that he understands their contents, and 
that they have made him wise unto salvation. The man who 
does not thus study them, who negligently suffers them to lie, 
for days and weeks, unopened, says, more explicitly than any 
words can say, I am Lord ; God is not my Sovereign ; I am not 
his subject, nor do I consider it important to know what he re- 
quires of me. Carry his messages to those who are subject to 
tiim, and they will, perhaps, pay them some attention. 

LANGUAGE OF ALL WHO NEGLECT PRAYER. 

It is natural to man, from his earliest infancy, to cry for re- 
lief when in danger or distress, if he supposes that any one 
able to relieve him is within hearing of his cries. Every man, 
then, who feels his own dependence upon God, and his need of 
blessings which God only can bestow, will pray to him. He 
will feel that prayer is not only his duty, but his highest privi- 



472 FORBEARANCE OF GOD. 

lege ; a privilege of which he would not consent to be deprived, 
though confinement in a den of Hons were to be the consequence 
of its exercise. The man, then, who refuses, or neglects to 
pray, who regards prayer not as a privilege, but as a wearisome 
and needless task, practically says, in the most unequivocal 
manner, I am not dependent on God ; I want nothing that he 
can give ; and therefore I will not come to him, nor ask any fa- 
vor at his hands. I will not ask him to crown my exertions 
with success, for I am able, and determined, to be the architect 
of my own fortune. I will not ask him to instruct or guide me, 
for I am competent to be my own instructor and guide. I will 
not ask him to strengthen and support me, for I am strong in 
the vigor and resources of my own mind. I will not request 
his protection, for I am able to protect myself I will not im- 
plore his pardoning mercy nor his sanctifying grace, for I need, 
I desire, neither the one nor the other. 1 will not ask his pres- 
ence and aid in the hour of death, for I can meet and grapple, 
unsupported, with the king of terrors, and enter, undaunted 
and alone, any unknown world into which he may usher me. 
Such is the language of all who neglect prayer. 

REASON OF god's FORBEARANCE WITH SINNERS. 

How wonderful is the long-suflfering and forbearance of God ! 
Here are sinners who have been, for twenty, forty, sixty years, 
abusing his patience, and misimproving all his benefits. Yet, 
instead of cutting them down, he adds another year, perhaps 
many years, to their long since forfeited lives. There are sin- 
ners who have wasted and profaned a thousand Sabbaths, 
yet he allows them another Sabbath, another opportunity of 
hearing the offers of salvation. There are sinners who have 
repeatedly been urged in vain to be reconciled to God ; yet he 
condescends still to require a reconciliation. There are sinners 
at whose hearts Christ has knocked, a thousand and a thousand 
times ; but, though they refuse to admit him, he still knocks again. 
O, why are such treasures, of goodness lavished on such insen- 
sible creatures 7 Why is such an inestimable prize put into the 
hands of those who have no heart to improve it 7 Why, indeed, 
but to show what God can do, and how infinitely his patience 
and forbearance exceed ours. 



473 

One reason why God bestows on sinners the day and the 
means of grace, is, that they may have an opportunity of clear- 
ly displaying their own characters, and thus proving the truth 
of the charges which he has brought against them. He does. 
as it were, say to the world, I have accused these creatures of 
being enemies to me and to all goodness, and of cherishing in 
their hearts an obstinate attachment to vice. They deny the 
charge. I am therefore about to bring them to the test ; to try 
an experiment which will clearly show whether my charges are 
well-founded or not. I shall send them my word, and the gos- 
pel of my Son, clearly revealing to them the way of salvation. 
1 shall send messengers to explain and press upon them the 
truths there revealed. I shall allow them one day in seven to attend 
on their instructions, and I shall offer them the assistance of my 
Spirit, to render them holy : these privileges they shall enjoy 
for years together. If they improve them aright, if they be- 
lieve my word, receive and love my Son, and renounce their 
sins, I will acknowledge that I have accused them falsely, that 
they are not so depraved as I have represented them. But, 
should they, on the contrary, neglect my word, disbelieve the 
gospel, and refuse to receive and submit to my Son ; should they 
profane the Sabbath, misimprove the day of grace, refuse to re- 
pent of their sins, and be reconciled to me, then it will be evi- 
dent to all, that I have not accused them falsely ; that they are 
just such depraved, obstinate, irreconcilable enemies to me and 
to goodness, as I have represented them to be in my word. 

WE ARE LORDS, JER. II. 31. 

If men are indeed independent of God, it may, with safety, 
be asserted, that he is almost the only being or object in the 
universe, on whom they are not dependent. From the cradle 
to the grave, their lives exhibit little else than a continued 
course of dependence. They are dependent on the earth, on 
the water, on the air, on each other, on irrational animals, on 
vegetables, on unorganized substances. Let but the sun with- 
hold his beams, and the clouds their showers for a single year, 
and the whole race of these mighty, independentbeings expires. 
Let but a pestilential blast sweep over them, and they are 
gone. Let but some imperceptible derangement take place in 
their frail but complicated frame, and all their boasted intellec- 

voL. I. 60 



474 TO THE IMPENITENT. 

lual powers sink to the level of an idiot's mind. Let a small 
portion of that food, on which they daily depend for nourish- 
ment, pass but the breadth of a line from its proper course, and 
they expire in agony. An insect, a needle, a thorn, has often 
proved sufficient to subject them to the same fate. And while 
they are dependent on so many objects for the continuance of 
their lives, they are dependent on a still greater number for hap- 
piness, and for the success of their enterprises. Let but a single 
spark fall unheeded, or be wafted by a breath of air, and a city, 
which it has cost thousands the labors of many years to erect, 
may be turned to ashes. Let the wind but blow from one point 
rather than from another, and the hopes of the merchant are 
dashed against a rock. Let but a little more, or a little less, 
than the usual quantity of rain descend, and in the latter case 
the prospects of the husbandman are blasted, while, in the 
other, his anticipated harvest perishes beneath the clods, or is 
swept away by an inundation. But in vain do we attempt to 
describe the extent of man's dependence, or enumerate all the 
objects and events on which he depends. Yet all these objects 
and events are under the control of Jehovah. Without his no- 
tice and appointment, not a hair falls from our heads, nor a spar- 
row to the ground. O how far is it, then, from being true, that 
man is not dependent on God ! 

TO THE IMPENITENT. 

My friends, God offers you the water of life, without money 
and without price. Every one may come and take it if he 
will; and is not this sufficient? Would you have the water of 
life forced upon you ? What is it that you wish 1 My friends, 
I will tell you what you wish. You wish to live as you please 
here, to disobey your Creator, to neglect your Saviour, to fulfil 
the desires of the flesh and of the mind ; and at death to be ad- 
mitted into a kind of sensual paradise, where you may taste 
again the same pleasures which you enjoyed on earth. You 
wish that God should break his word, stain his justice, purity 
and truth, and sacrifice the honor of his law, his own rightful 
authority, and the best interests of the universe, to the gratifi- 
cation of your own sinful propensities. 

Look back to those who have passed the great change through 



GOD ANGRY WITH SINNERS. 475 

which we must all pass. Think of the patriarchs who died 
before the flood. They have been perfectly happy for more 
than four thousand years ; yet their happiness has but just 
commenced. Think of the sinners who died before the flood. 
For more than four thousand years they have been completely 
wretched, and yet their misery is but begun. So there will be 
a time when you will have been happy or miserable four thou- 
sand years, and for four times four thousand years, and yet 
your heaven or your hell will even then be but beginning. 

GOD ANGRY WITH SINNERS. 

^' God is angry with the wicked every day." Do you ask 
why he is angry 7 I answer, He is angry to see rational, im- 
mortal, and accountable beings, spending twenty, forty, or sixty 
years in trifling and sin ; serving divers idols, lusts and vanities, 
and living as if death were an eternal sleep. He is angry to 
see you forgetting your Maker in childhood, in youth, in man- 
hood, making no returns for all his benefits, casting off" his fear, 
and restraining prayer, and rebelling against him who has 
nourished and brought you up as children. He is angry to see 
you laying up treasures on earth, and not in heaven ; seeking 
every thing in preference to the one thing needful ; loving the 
praise of men more than the praise of God ; and fearing those 
who can only kill the body, more than him who hath power to 
cast both soul and body into hell. He is angry to see that you 
disregard alike his threatenings and his promises; his judg- 
ments and his mercies ; that you bury in the earth the talents 
he has given you, and bring forth no fruit to his glory ; that 
you neglect his word, his spirit and his law, and perish in im- 
penitency and unbelief, notwithstanding all the means employ- 
ed for your conversion. He is angry to see you come before 
him as his people, and worship him with your lips, while your 
thoughts are perhaps wandering to the ends of the earth. He 
is angry to spe you trusting in your own wisdom, strength and 
righteousness for salvation, instead of placing your dependence 
on Christ, the only name by which you can possibly be saved. 
These are sins of which every person, in an unconverted state, 
is guilty ; and for these things God is angry, daily angry, great- 
ly and justly angry ; and unless his anger be speedily appeased, 
it will most certainly prove your destruction. 



476 MOTIVES TO REPENTANCE. 

LUKE XV. 10. 

God now commandeth all men, every where, to repent. I lay 
this command across your path : you cannot proceed one step 
farther in a sinful course without treading it under foot. You 
are urged to the immediate performance of this duty by a re- 
gard to your own interest ; for except ye repent, ye shall all 
likewise perish. You are urged to it by all the blessed angels, 
who are waiting with a desire to rejoice in your conversion. 
Above all, you are most powerfully urged to it by the blessed 
Redeemer, whom you are under the strongest possible obliga- 
tions to love and obey. He has done and suffered much for 
you. For you he has toiled, bled and died. For you he cheer- 
fully endured the scoffs and cruelties of men ; the rage and 
malice of devils ; and the overwhelming weight of his Father's 
wrath. In return for all this, he asks of you one small favor. 
He merely requests you to repent and be happy. If you com- 
ply with his request, he will see of the travail of his soul, and 
be satisfied. O, then, be persuaded to give joy to God, to his 
Son, and to the holy angels ; to make this day a festival in 
heaven, by repenting. Even now, your heavenly Father is 
v/aiting for your return, and the Redeemer stands ready with 
expanded arms to receive you. Even now the white robes and 
the ring are provided, and the fatted calf is made ready to feast 
returning prodigals. Even now, angels and archangels are 
ready to pour forth their most joyful songs to celebrate your 
return. Will you, then, by persisting in impenitence, seal up 
their lips 7 Will you say. There shall be no joy in heaven, this 
day, on your account 7 God shall not be glorified, Christ shall 
not be gratified, angels shall not rejoice, if we can prevent it 7 
If there be any of whose feelings and conduct this is the lan- 
guage, I solemnly, but reluctantly declare unto you, in the 
name of Jehovah, that God and his Son shall be glorified, and 
there shall be joy over you in heaven, notwithstanding all your 
endeavors to prevent it. Never shall any of his creatures rob 
God of his glory ; and, if you will not consent that his grace 
shall be glorified in your salvation, he will be compelled lo glo- 
rify his justice, in your everlasting destruction. If you will 
not allow the inhabitants of heaven to rejoice in your repent- 
ance, their love of justice, truth and holiness will constrain them 



OBJECTIONS ANSWERED. 477 

TO rejoice in your condemnation, and to. sing alleluia, while the 
smoke of your torment ascendeth up forever and ever. 

OBJECTIONS OF SINNERS TO THE GOSPEL AN- 
SWERED. 

Suppose that, while you are dying of a fatal disease, a medi- 
cine of great reputed efficacy is offered you, on making trial 
of which, you find yourself restored to health and activity. 
Full of joy and gratitude, you propose the remedy to others, 
afflicted with the same disease. One of these persons replies to 
you, '• I am surprised that you place so much faith in the vir- 
tues of this medicine. How do you know that it was really 
discovered by the person whose name it bears 7 Or, even if it 
were, it is so many years ago, and the medicine has passed 
through so many hands since, that it is probably corrupted, or 
perhaps some other has been substituted in the place of the 
genuine medicine." Says another, " It may not be suited to the 
constitutions of men in this age, though it was undoubtedly 
useful to those who first used it." " The disease and the cure 
are both equally imaginary," says a third. " There are many 
other remedies of equal or superior efficacy," objects a fourth. 
" None of the most celebrated physicians recommend it," re- 
plies a fifth ; while a sixth attempts to silence you by objecting 
to the phials in which it is put up, and repeating that boxes 
would have been more suitable. What Aveight would all these 
objections have with you 7 Would they induce you to throw 
away the healing balm, whose effects you even then felt, send- 
iHg life, and health, and vigor, through your whole frame? 
Even thus may infidels and cavillers urge objections against the 
gospel ; but the Christian heeds them not, for he has felt, in his 
own soul, its life-giving power. 

Will you say there are no real stars, because you sometimes 
see meteors fall, which for a time appeared to be stars7 Will 
you say that blossoms never produce fruit, because many of them 
fall off, and some fruit, which appears sound, is rotten at the 
core 7 Equally absurd is it to say there is no such thing as real 
religion, because many who profess it fall away, or prove to be 
hypocrites in heart. Or will you say that a medicine does no good, 
because, though it removes the fever, it does not restore the pa- 



478 



FOLLY OF OBJECTORS. 



tient to perfect strength in an instant? Equally groundless and 
absurd is it to say that religion does not make its possessors bet- 
ter, because it does not, in a moment, make them perfect as 
the angels of God. 

The many false and counterfeit appearances which we meet 
with, instead of proving that there is no religion in the world, 
not only prove that there is, but that it is extremely precious ; 
otherwise it would not be counterfeited. No one will be at the 
trouble of counterfeiting, either what does not exist, or what is 
of no value. No one will make false stones, or false dust, though 
many make false pearls and diamonds. If there were no real 
money, there would be no counterfeit; and so, if there were no 
real religion, there would be no false religion. One cannot ex- 
ist without the other any more than a shadow can exist without 
a substance ; and he who rejects all religion, because hypocrites 
sometimes borrow its name and appearance, acts no less absurdly 
than he who throws his gold or jewels into the fire, because 
gold and jewels have sometimes been counterfeited. 

Surely, if Christianity be a delusion, it is a blessed delusion 
indeed ; and he who attempts to destroy it is an enemy to man- 
kind. It is a delusion which teaches us to do justly, love mercy, 
and walk humbly with our God ; a delusion which teaches us 
to love our Maker supremely, and our neighbor as ourselves; a 
delusion which bids us love, forgive, and pray for our enemies, 
render good for evil, and promote the glory of God and the hap- 
piness of our fellow creatures, by every m€&,ns in our power; a 
delusion, which, wherever it is received, produces a humble, 
meek, charitable and peaceful temper, and which, did it univer- 
sally prevail, would banish wars, vice and misery from the world. 
It is a delusion which not only supports and comforts its believ- 
ers in their wearisome progress through this vale of tears, but 
attends them in death, when all other consolations fail, and en- 
ables them to triumph over sorrows, sickness, anguish and the 
grave. If delusion can do this, in delusion let me live and die ; 
for what could flie most blessed reality do more? 

FOLLY OF REJECTING THE GOSPEL. 

Shall we listen to men when God speaks? Shall blind and 



HUMAN REASON. 479 

ignorant worms of the dust pretend to know what God will do, 
better than he who v/as from eternity in the bosom of the Father? 
Hast thoiij O man, whosoever thou art, that pretendest that the 
words of Christ are unreasonable, or im.probable, or false, hast 
thou ascended into heaven, or descended into hell? Hast thou 
measured eternity and grasped infinity? Hast thou by search- 
ing found out God ? Hast thou found out the Almighty unto 
perfection? Canst thou tell me more of him than can the 
Son of his love, in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom 
and knowledge? Does the dim taper of thy darkened reason 
shine brighter than the glorious Sun of righteousness? And are 
those to be branded as fools and madmen, who choose to walk in 
his light, rather than to be led by a mere ignis fatuus? No : till 
you can bring us a teacher superior to Christ, who is the wisdom 
of God; till you can show us a man who has weighed the 
mountains in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven 
with a span ; who has lived in heaven from eternity ; and can 
prove that he knows more than Omniscience, — we will, we 
must cleave to Christ. Here is a rock. All is sea besides. Nor 
shall the unbelief of sinners make the faith of God without 
effect; for, if we believe not, he remains faithful; he cannot 
deny himself. 

INSUFFICIENCY OF HUMAN REASON. 

Viewed through any other medium than that of revelation, 
man is a riddle which man cannot expound; a being composed 
of inconsistencies ^nd contradictions, which unassisted reason 
must forever seek in vain to reconcile. In vain does she endeavor 
to ascertain the origin, object and end of his existence. In vain 
does she inquire in what his duty and happiness consist. In 
vain does she ask what is his present concern and future desti- 
nation. Wherever she turns for information, she is soon lost in 
a labyrinth of doubts and perplexities, and finds the progress of 
her researches interrupted by a cloud of obscurity which the 
rays of her feeble lamp are insufiicient to penetrate. 

Suppose you should see a man carrying a little, glimmenng 
taper in his hand at noonday, with his back turned to the sun, 
and foolishly endeavoring to persuade himself and others that 
he had no need of the sun, and that his taper gave more light 



480 



NATURAL R ELIGION 



than that glorious luminary. How amazingly great would be 
his folly ! Yet this illustration very feebly represents the folly 
of those who walk in the sparks of their own kindlingj while 
they disregard the glorious Sun of righteousness. 

NATURAL RELIGION. 

I know that those who hate and despise the religion of Jesus 
because it condemns their evil deeds, have endeavored to deprive 
him of the honor of communicating to mankind the glad tid- 
ings of life and immortality; I know that they have dragged 
the mouldering carcass of paganism from the grave, animated 
her lifeless form with a spark stolen from the sacred altar, ar- 
rayed her in the spoils of Christianity, re-enlightened her extin- 
guished taper at the torch of revelation, dignified her Avith the 
name of natural religion, and exalted her in the temple of reason, 
as a goddess, able, without divine assistance, to guide mankind 
to truth and happiness. But we also know, that all her boasted 
pretensions are vain, the offspring of ignorance, wickedness and 
pride. We know that she is indebted to that revelation which 
she presumes to ridicule and condemn, for every semblance of 
truth or energy which she displays. We know that the most 
she can do, is to find men blind and leave them so ; and to lead 
them still farther astray, in a labyrinth of vice, delusion and 
wretchedness. This is incontrovertibly evident, both from past 
and present experience ; and we may defy her most eloquent 
advocates to produce a single instance, in which she has en- 
lightened or reformed mankind. If, as is often asserted, she is 
able to guide us in the path of truth and happiness, why has 
she ever suffered her votaries to remain a prey to vice and igno- 
rance? Why did she not teach the learned Egyptians to abstain 
from worshipping their leeks and onions? Why not instruct the 
polished Greeks to renounce their sixty-thousand gods? Why 
not persuade the enlightened Romans to abstain from adoring 
their deified murderers? Why not prevail on the wealthy Phoe- 
nicians to refrain from sacrificing their infants to Saturn? Or, 
if it was a task beyond her power to enlighten the ignorant mul- 
titude, reform their barbarous and abominable superstitions, and 
teach them that they were immortal beings, why did she not, 
at least, instruct their philosophers in the great doctrine of the 
immortality of the soul, which they earnestly labored in vain to 



NATURAL RELIGION. 481 

discover? They enjoyed the hght of reason and natural reli- 
gion, in its fullest extent; yet so far were they from ascertaining 
the nature of our future and eternal existence, that they could 
not determine whether we should exist at all beyond the grave; 
nor could all their advantages preserve them from the grossest 
errors and most unnatural crimes. 

What would you say of a man who should throw away his 
compass, because he could not tell wh}?" it points to the north'? 
or reject an accurate chart, because it did not include a delinea- 
tion of coasts which he never expected to visit, and with which 
he had no concern? What would you say of a man who should 
reject all the best astronomical treatises, because they do not 
describe the inhabitants of the moon, and of the planets; or 
who should treat with contempt every book which does not an- 
swer all the questions that may be asked respecting the subject 
of which it treats 7 Or, to come still nearer to the point, v/hat 
would you say of a man, who, when sick of a mortal disease, 
should refuse an infallible remedy, unless the physician would 
first tell him how he took the disease, how such diseases first 
entered the world, why they were permitted to enter it, and by 
what secret laws or virtues the offered remedy would effect his 
cure? Would you not say, a man so unreasonable deserves to 
die? He must be left to suffer for his folly. Now, this is pre- 
cisely the case of those who neglect the Bible, because it does 
not reveal those secret things which belong to God. Your souls 
are assailed by fatal diseases, by diseases which have destroyed 
millions of your fellow creatures, which already occasion you 
much suffering, and which, you are assured, will terminate in 
death unless removed. An infallible Physician is revealed to 
you, in the Bible, who has, at a great expense, provided a certain 
remedy; and this remedy he offers you freely, without money 
and without price. But you refuse to take this remedy, because 
he does not think it necessary to answer every question which 
can be asked respecting the origin of your disease, the introduc- 
tion of such diseases into the world, and the reasons why they 
"Were ever permitted to enter it. Tell me, you exclaim, how I 
became sick, or I will not consent to be well. If this be not the 
height of folly and madness, what is? 

VOL. L 61 



482 PUNISHMENT OF SINNERS. 

We have not the smallest reason to suppose that, if God had 
revealed all those secret things which belong to him, it would 
have made it more easy than it is now, to know and perform 
our duty. Suppose, for instance, that God should answer all 
the questions which may be asked respecting the origin of moral 
evil, and its introduction into the world ; would this knowledge 
at all assist us in banishing evil from the world, or from our 
own bosoms 7 As well might we pretend that a knowledge of 
the precise manner in which a man was killed would enable us 
to restore him to life. Or, should God inform us of the manner 
in which divinity and humanity are united in the person of 
Jesus Christ, would this knowledge assist us in performing any 
one of the duties we owe the Saviour ? As well might we 
pretend that a knowledge of the manner in which our souls are 
united to our bodies, would assist us in performing any of the 
common actions of life. 

The Bible tells us that an enemy came and sowed tares. 
Now, if any man chooses to go farther than this, and inquire 
where the enemy got the tares, he is welcome to do so ; but I 
choose to leave it Avhere the Bible leaves it. I do not wish to 
be wise above what is written. 

FATE OF THOSE WHO REJECT THE GOSPEL. 

It is God's invariable rule of proceeding to deal with his 
creatures, in some measure, as they deal with him. Hence we 
are told that, with the upright, he will show himself upright ; 
with the merciful, he will show himself merciful ; and with the 
fro ward, he will show himself fro ward. When, therefore, per- 
sons come to him with a pretended desire to know their duty, 
but, in reality, with a view to find some excuse or justification 
for their errors and sins, he will suffer them, as a punishment, 
to find something which will harden them in their wickedness. 
Thus he will suffer the obstinate believer in universal salvation, 
to deceive himself with his delusive dreams, till he wakes in 
torments. He will suffer the proud, self-righteous opposer of 
his gospel, to trust in his moral duties, till it is too late to dis- 
cover his mistake. He will suffer the self-deceived hypocrite 
to please himself with his false hopes of heaven, till he finds 
the door forever shut against him. All these persons did, in 



NO PEACE TO SINNERS. 483 

effect, wish to be deceived; they hated the Hght, shut their eyes, 
and would not come to it ; they leaned to their own under- 
standings, instead of trusting to the Lord; they never prayed 
him to keep them from self-deception and from false paths; they 
chose to believe Satan rather than God, and therefore are justly 
left to feel the effects of it, 

THE WICKED, LIKE A TROUBLED SEA. 

Ungoverned passions are to the mind what winds are to the 
ocean, and they often throw it into a storm; for, in such a world 
as this, the sinner must meet with many things which are cal- 
culated to rouse them. Sometimes he is injured, injured perhaps 
without cause or provocation; and then his mind is agitated by 
revengeful feelings. Sometimes he sees a rival, perhaps an 
unworthy rival, outstrip him in the race, and seize the prize 
which he had hoped to obtain; and, in consequence, envy, 
mortification, and chagrin, lie gnawing at his heart, and cause 
the greater pain because he is obliged to conceal them. Often 
he meets with some slight affront or insult, which wounds his 
pride, and sets his angry passions in a flame, like Haman, who 
could enjoy nothing because Mordecai refused to do him rev- 
erence. In addition to these things, he is daily exposed to a 
thousand little nameless vexatious occurrences, which tease, and 
fret, and harass him, rendering his mind a stranger to peace. 
Often, too, his mind is disturbed by its own workings, without any 
assignable cause. He feels restless and unhappy, he can scarcely 
tell why. He wants something, but he cannot tell what. One 
wave of troubled thought after another, comes rolling upon his 
mind, and he cannot say with the Psalmist, In the multitude of 
my thoughts within me, thy comforts delight my soul. These 
troublesome thoughts, and tumultuous worJcings of the mind, 
are to the wicked man what the daily flow and ebb of the tide 
are to the ocean. They keep it in agitation even when the 
waves of passion cease to flow. 

THOUGHTS OF GOD PAINFUL TO THE SINNER. 

Sinners do not li<ke to retain God in their knowledge, because 
He is omniscient and omnipresent. In consequence of his pos- 
sessing these attributes, he is a constant witness of their feelings 
and conduct, and is perfectly acquainted with their hearts. 



484 Satan's armor. 

This must render the thoughts of his hoUness still more disa- 
greeable to a sinner, for what can be more unpleasant to such a 
character, than the constant presence and inspection of a holy 
being, whom he cannot deceive, from whose keen, searching 
gaze he cannot for a moment hide, to whom darkness and light 
are alike open, and who views the sinner's conduct with the 
utmost displeasure and abhorrence? Even the presence of our 
fellow creatures is disagreeable, when we wish to indulge any 
sinful propensity which they will disapprove. The slanderer, 
the profane swearer, the drunkard, the debauchee and the 
gamester would feel the presence of a religious inferior to be 
irksome, though he should be present but for an hour. How 
exceedingly irksome, then, must the constant presence of a holy, 
heart-searching God be to a sinner ! But if the sinner retains 
a knowledge of God, he must feel him to be present. No wonder, 
then, that sinners banish a knowledge of him from their minds, 
as the easiest method of freeing themselves from the restraint 
imposed by his presence. 



The armor with which Satan furnishes his followers, is di- 
rectly the reverse of that Christian armor described by the 
apostle Paul. Instead of a girdle of truth, he girds the sinner 
with the girdle of error and deceit. Instead of the breastplate 
of Christ's righteousness, he furnishes him with a breastplate of 
his own fancied righteousness. Instead of the shield of faith, 
the sinner has the shield of unbelief; and with this he defends 
himself against the curses of the law, and the arrows of con- 
viction. Instead of the sword of the Spirit, which is the word 
of God, he teaches them to wield the sword of a tongue set on 
fire of hell, and furnishes them with a magazine of cavils, ex- 
cuses, and objections, with which they attack religion, and 
defend themselves. He also builds for them many refuges oi 
lies, in which, as in a strong castle, they proudly hope to shelter 
themselves from the wrath of God. 

The false peace and security in which sinners indulge, instead 
of proving their safety, is only a further evidence of their dan- 
ger. It proves that the strong man armed is not disturbed in 
liis possessions, but that he keeps them in peace. 



CONSCIENCE. 485 

GROUNDS OF THE SINNER's PEACE. 

There is, perhaps, scarcely a person to be found, who does 
not, in his own opinion, exemplarily perform some part of his 
duty. On this he looks with no small degree of self-compla- 
cency, and flatters himself that it will atone for all obliquities 
in his temper and conduct. To this he flies for refuge whenever 
conscience reproves his deficiencies, and, instead of believing 
the apostolic assertion, that if a man shall keep the whole law, 
and yet oflfend in one point, he is guilty of all, seems to suppose 
that if he transgresses the whole law, and yet obeys one precept, 
he is guiltless. I have met with a person who, though guilty 
of almost every crime which could disgrace her sex, thanked 
God, with much apparent self-gratulation, that she was not a 
thief; and who evidently imagined that her abstaining from this 
one vice would secure her from the displeasure of heaven. 

CONSCIENCE. 

Conscience is God's vicegerent in the soul, and though sinners 
may stupefy and sear, they cannot entirely silence or destroy it. 
At times, this unwelcome monitor will awake, and then her 
reproaches and threatenings are, above all things, terrible to the 
sinner. During the day, while he is surrounded by thoughtless 
companions, or wholly engrossed by worldly pursuits, he may 
contrive to stifle, or at least to disregard, her voice ; but at night, 
and upon his bed, when all is silent around him, when darkness 
and solitude compel him to attend to his own reflections, the 
case is diflerent. Then an awakened conscience will be heard. 
Then she arraigns the sinner at her bar, tries, convicts, and 
condemns him, and threatens him with the punishment which 
his sins deserve. In vain does he endeavor to fly from her tor- 
turing scourge, or to find refuge in sleep. Sleep flies from him. 
One sin after another rises to his view, and the load of con- 
scious guilt, which oppresses him, becomes more and more 
heavy, till, like the impious Belshazzar, when he saw the mys- 
terious handwriting upon the wall, the joints of his loins are 
loosed, and his knees smite one against the other. He finds 
that something must be done. He has heard that prayer is a 
duty, and he attempts to pray. He utters a few half-formed 
cries for mercy, makes a few insincere resolutions, and promises 



4S6 A WOUNDED SPIRIT. 

of amendment; and having thus, in some measure, quieted the 
reproaches of his conscience, he falls asleep. In the morning 
he wakes, rejoiced to see once more the cheerful light; the res- 
olutions and promises of the night are forgotten, he again spends 
the day in folly and sin, and at night retires to his bed, again 
to be scourged by conscience for breaking his resolutions, again 
to quiet her reproaches by insincere prayers and promises, and 
again to break these promises when the light returns. 

There is a season, and often, perhaps, more than one, in the 
life of almost every person who hears the gospel faithfully 
preached, in which it affects him more than ordinarily. Some- 
thing like light appears to shine into his mind, which enables 
him to discover objects previously unseen or unnoticed. While 
this light continues to shine, he feels a much more full and 
strong conviction of the truth of the Bible, and of the reality 
and importance of religion, than he ever felt before. He sees, 
with more or less clearness, that he is a sinner ; that, as such, 
he is exposed to God's displeasure; and that, unless some means 
can be found to avert that displeasure, he is undone. After 
such means, he i&, therefore, very inquisitive. He reads the 
Bible more frequently and carefully, becomes a more diligent, 
attentive and interested hearer of the gospel, is fond of convers- 
ing on religious subjects, and perhaps attempts to pray for mer- 
cy. Christ stands at the door of his heart, and knocks for 
admittance. With a person in this situation, he is as really, 
though not as visibly, present, as he was with the Jews, when 
he said. Yet a little while is the light with you. 

A WOUNDED SPIRIT WHO CAN BEAR. 

One reason why the anguish of a wounded spirit is more 
intolerable than any other species of suffering, is, that it is 
impossible to obtain the smallest consolation or relief under it. 
This can scarcely be said, with truth, of any other species of 
suffering to which mankind are liable. If they lose friends, 
they have usually other friends to sympathize with them, and 
assist in repairing their loss. If they lose property, they may 
hope to regain it, or, if not, their losses cannot be always pres- 
ent to their mind, and many sources of enjoyment are still open 
to them. If they are afflicted with painful diseases, they can 



A WOUNDED SPIRIT. 487 

usually obtain, at least, temporary relief from medicine, and 
receive some consolation from the sympathy of their friends. 
In all cases, they can, for a time, lose their sorrows in sleep, 
and look forward to death as the termination of their troubles. 
ijiit very different is the situation of one who suffers the anguish 
of a wounded spirit. He cannot fly from his misery, for it is 
within. Nor can he forget it, for it is every moment present to 
)iis mind. Nor can he divert his attention from it, for it enga- 
ges his thoughts, in defiance of all endeavors to fix them on any 
other objects. Nor can he derive consolation from any friends or 
temporal blessings he may possess, for every thing is turned to 
poison and bitterness, and the very power of enjoyment seems 
to be taken from him. Nor can he even lose his sorrows in 
sleep, for sleep usually flies from a wounded spirit, or, if obtain- 
ed, it is disturbed and unrefreshing. Hence the exclamation of 
Job, When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease 
my complaint; then, thou scarest me with dreams, andterrifiest 
me through visions. 

Look which way it will for relief, the wounded spirit can 
discover nothing but aggravations of its wretchedness. If it 
looks within, it finds nothing but darkness, and tempest and 
despair. If it looks around on its temporal possessions, it sees 
nothing but gifts of God which it has abused, and for its abuse 
of which it must give a terrible account. If it looks back, it 
sees a life spent in neglect of God, and ten thousand sins, fol- 
lowing it as accusers to the judgment-seat. If it looks forward, 
it sees that judgment-seat to which it must come, and where it 
expects nothing but a sentence of final condemnation. If it 
looks up, it sees that God who is wounding it, and whose anger 
seems to search it like fire ; and if it looks downward, it sees 
the gulf which awaits its fall. Not even to death can it look 
forward as the termination of its miseries, for it fears that its 
miseries will then receive a terrible increase. True, there is 
one object to which it might look for relief, and find it. It might 
look to the Saviour, the great Physician, and obtain not only a 
cure for its wounds, but everlasting life. But to him it will not 
look, till its impenitence and unbelief are subdued by sovereign 



488 UNWILLINGNESS TO BE SAVED. 

sinner's unwillingness to go to CHRIST. 

The sinner tries every place of refuge before he will enter the 
ark of safety. He is like a person exposed to the storm and 
tempest, for whom a place of safety is provided, which he is 
im willing to enter. He flies from one place of fancied security 
to take refuge in another. The storm increases ; one hiding- 
place after another is swept away, till, at length, exposed, with- 
out a shelter, to the raging storm, he is glad to flee to the refuge 
provided for him. 

Suppose an apparently strong and healthy man should apply 
to you for relief, and, when asked why he did not labor for his 
subsistence, should reply, Because I can find no one to employ 
me. If you wished to know whether this or indolence were 
the true reason, you would offer him employment ; and if he 
then refused to labor, you would feel satisfied that he was sloth- 
ful and undeserving of your charity. So, when God puts into 
the hands of sinners a price to get wisdom, and they do not 
improve it, it becomes evident that they do not wish, that they 
are not willing, to become rehgious. 

EXCUSES OF THE SINNER ANSWERED. 

Numerous as are the excuses which sinners make when urged 
to embrace the gospel, they may all be reduced to three ; the 
first is, that they have no time to attend to rehgion ; the second 
is, that they do not know how to become religious ; and the 
third, that they are not able to become so. Want of time, want 
of knowledge, or want of power, is pleaded by all. Foreseeing 
that they would make these excuses, God determined that they 
should have no reason to make them. By giving them the 
Sabbath, he has allowed them time for religion. By giving 
them his word, and messengers to explain it, he has taken away 
the excuse of ignorance ; and by offering them the assistance 
of his Holy Spirit, he has deprived them of the pretence that 
they are unable to obey him. Thus he has obviated all their 
excuses ; and therefore, at the last day, every mouth will be 
stopped, and the whole impenitent world will stand guilty and 
self-condemned before God. 

The convinced sinner wishes to be saved ; but then he would 



PEACE IN BELIEVING. 489 

be his own saviour. He will not consent to be saved by Christ 
He cannot bear to come as a poor, miserable, self-condemned 
sinner, and throw himself on the mere mercy of Christ ; but he 
wants to purchase heaven ; to give so many good deeds, as he 
calls them, for so much happiness hereafter. He goes on to mul- 
tiply his religious duties, and, with great diligence, makes a 
robe of his own righteousness, with which he hopes to cover 
his moral nakedness, and render himself acceptable in the sight 
of God. In vain is he told that all his righteousness is as filthy 
rags ; that he is daily growing worse, rather than better ; that 
eternal life can never be purchased. He will stop here, as thou- 
sands have done before, resting on this foundation, having the 
form of Godliness, but denying the power, unless the Spirit of 
God continue to strive with him, and complete the work by show- 
ing him his own heart. 

THE KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST BRINGS PEACE TO 
THE SINNER. 

Even a knowledge of the divine perfections, if it could have 
been obtained without Christ, would only have driven us to 
despair, as it did our guilty first parents ; for out of Christ, God 
is a consuming fire. The convinced sinner looks at the great- 
ness of God, and says. How can he stoop to notice a being so 
insignificant as myself? He looks at his holiness, and says, 
God cannot but hate me as a vile, polluted sinner. He looks 
at his justice, and says, God must condemn me, for 1 have bro- 
ken his righteous law. He looks at his truth, and cries, God is 
not a man that he should lie ; he must execute his threatenings 
and destroy me. He looks at God's immutability, and says. 
He is in one mind, and who can turn him 1 He will never 
change : he will always be my enemy. He looks at his power 
and wisdom, and says, I can neither resist nor deceive him. He 
looks at his eternity and exclaims, It is a fearful thing to fall 
into the hands of the living God. Thus do all the divine per- 
fections become so many sources of terror and dismay to the 
convinced sinner. But no sooner does he obtain a knowledge 
of Christ, than his fears vanish. The divine perfections no 
longer forbid him to hope for mercy, but encourage him to do 
it. Instead of the thunders of the law, he hears the compas- 
sionate voice of Christ saying, Be of good cheer, my blood 

VOL. I. 62 



490 PEACE IN BELIEVING. 

cleanseth from all sin ; thy sins, which are many, are forgiven. 
He feels boldness to enter into the holiest of all through the 
blood of Jesus, and exclaims with the apostle, Being justified 
by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus 
Christ. Such are the blessed effects which St. Paul experien- 
ced from a knowledge of Christ, and which every true believer 
experiences. Can we then wonder, that, in comparison with it, 
they count all things but loss. 

THE CONVINCED SINNER BELIEVINGIN CHRIST. 

When a convinced, guilty sinner, who feels condemned by 
the law of God and his own conscience, and fears the sentence 
of eternal condemnation from the mouth of his Judge hereafter, 
hears and believes the glad tidings of salvation, they cause hope 
in the mercy of God to spring up in his anxious, troubled breast. 
He says to himself, I am a miserable, guilty creature. I have 
rebelled against my Creator, broken his law, and thus exposed 
myself to its dreadful curse. How, then, can I escape from this 
curse, which threatens to plunge me in eternal ruin 7 Can I 
call back the idle words I have uttered, the sinful desires I have 
indulged, the wicked actions I have committed, the time I have 
wasted, the precious privileges and opportunities I have misim- 
proved ? No. Can I wash away the guilt of these sins from 
my troubled conscience, or blot out the black catalogue of them 
which is written in the book of God's remembrance ? No. Can 
I make any satisfaction or atonement for them, to appease my 
justly-offended God 1 No. Even should I be perfectly obedi- 
ent in future, still this will not blot out my past sins. Besides, 
I find that I daily commit new sins ; so that, instead of dimin- 
ishing, I increase my guilt. What, then, can I do ? Where 
can I turn ? On what can I build any hope of mercy ? Why 
should God pardon me, and give me heaven, when I have done, 
and still do nothing but provoke him ! What can I, what must 
T do to be saved 7 The gospel indeed says. Believe on the Lord 
Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. It tells me that though 
my sins be of a crimson color and scarlet dye, yet if I forsake 
them, and turn unto the Lord, he will abundantly pardon. 
Why should not I believe in Christ, as well as others ? His 
blood cleanseth from all sin. But perhaps I am too great a 
sinner to be saved. Yet the gospel assures me that Christ came 



EFFECTS OF CONVERSION. 491 

to save the chief of sinners. Why, then, should I doubt? 
Why should I not believe? I must, I will, I can, I do beUeve; 
Lord, help thou mine unbelief. 

EFFECTS OF CONVERSION. 

When a man stands with his back to the sun, his own shadow 
and the shadows of surrounding objects are before him. But when 
he turns towards the sun, all these shadows are behind him. It 
is the same in spiritual things. God is the great Sun of the 
universe. Compared with him, creatures are but shadows. But 
while men stand with their backs to God, all these shadows are 
before them, and engross their affections, desires and exertions. 
On the contrary, when they are converted, and turn to God. all 
these shadows are thrown behind them, and God becomes all in 
all, so that they can say from the heart. Whom have we in heav- 
en but thee ? and there is none on earth that we desire besides 
thee. 

The eifect produced on a sinner who is brought from darkness 
into God's marvellous light, may be illustrated in the following 
manner. The Scriptures teach us that angels are continually 
present in our world, and employed in executing the designs of 
God. Being spirits, they are of course invisible to mortal eyes. 
Hence we are unconscious of their presence, and, therefore are 
not affected by it. Now, suppose, — for the supposition involves 
no impossibility, — that God should impart to any one of our 
race the power of seeing these active and benevolent spirits. It 
is evident that this power would occasion a great change in the 
conduct and feelings of that man. He would see angels, where 
other persons could see nothing. He would be interested by 
the sight ; he would wish to form an acquaintance with these 
newly-discovered beings; he would frequently speak of them, 
of their employments and pursuits. Of course he would no 
longer be like other men ; he would become, in one sense, a new 
creature, and the angels would appear to him so much more 
interesting than other objects, that his attention would be much 
diverted. Hence he would be thought a visionary or a distract- 
ed man. Now, the hght of divine truth does not make angels 
visible, but it makes the Lord of angels, the Father of spirits, 
in some sense, visible ; it makes him, at least, a reality to the 



492 EFFECTS OF CONVERSION. 

mind, or, in the language of Scripture, it enables men to feel 
and act as if they saw Him who is invisible. It brings God 
into the circle of objects by which we perceive ourselves to be 
surrounded; and in whatever circle he is seen, he will be seen 
to be the most important object in it. Now, if the sight of an- 
gels would effect a change in a man's character, much more will 
seeing the infinite God. His favor will appear all important, 
his anger dreadful ; all other objects will, in a measure, lose 
their interest, and the man will be thought deluded, or visionary, 
or distracted. 

Suppose a man engaged in some enterprise, for the success of 
which he is exceedingly desirous. He is surrounded, we will 
suppose, by a number of persons who have it in their power, 
either to aid or oppose his designs. Knowing this, he will of 
course, make it his great object to secure their co-operation ; or, 
at least, to induce them not to oppose him. Now, suppose 
another person to be introduced into the circle around him, pos- 
sessed of far greater power than any or all of these united, to 
aid or oppose his designs. This circumstance will produce a 
great alteration in his views and feelings. It will now be his 
great object to secure the assistance of this new and more pow- 
erful personage; and if he can obtain this, he will neither desire 
the aid nor fear the opposition of others. To apply this to the 
case of a sinner, living without God, in the world. He desires 
to be happy, and, for this purpose, to obtain those worldly ob- 
jects which he deems necessary to happiness. He finds himself 
surrounded by creatures, who have power either to aid or op- 
pose him in procuring these objects. Of course, his principal 
aim is, to avoid their opposition, and secure their friendship and 
assistance. Now, suppose this man to begin to realize that there 
is a God; a being who superintends, directs, and governs all 
creatures and events; who can make him happy without their 
assistance, or render him miserable, in defiance of all their en- 
deavors to prevent it. Will not the introduction of such a being 
into the circle around him, produce a great alteration in his plans, 
his views, and feelings? Before this, he regarded creatures as 
every thing. Now, they will appear comparatively as nothing. 
Before, God was nothing to him. Now he will be all in all. 



SELF CONFIDENCE. 493 

THE SELF-CONFIDENT. 

We see many who bid high, and seem to promise fair for 
heaven. They set out as if they would carry all before them, 
and say to Christ's people as Orpah did to her mother-in-law, 
Surely we will go with you. For a time they appear to ruu 
well. Like a flower plucked from its stalk, and placed in wa- 
ter, they look fair and flourishing. Many of their sins seem to 
be subdued, and many moral and religious duties are diligently 
practised. But at length a day of trial comes. Temptations 
assault them ; the world opposes them; the sins which seemed to 
be dead revive; the eflect of novelty wears ofl"; the tumult of 
their feelings subsides; their little stock of zeal, and strength, 
and resolution, is exhausted; and they have never learned to 
apply to Christ for fresh supplies. Then it appears that they 
had no root in themselves. They begin to wither. Their blos- 
soms fall ofl" without producing fruit. They first grow weary, 
then faint, then utterly fall. 

He depended on himself, and not on Christ, on his own prom- 
ises and resolutions, and not on God's. Hence, when his own 
stock fails, as fail it must, he has nothing. Every one knows 
that no stream can rise higher than its fountain head. It is the 
same in religion — the stream that is to rise as high as heaven, 
must have its fountain head in heaven. It must flow from that 
river of life which issues out of the throne of God and of the 
Lamb, and from that river it must be fed, or it will dry up. 

If, with a careful and enlightened eye, we trace the path of 
a numerous church, we shall find it strewed with the fallen, the 
fainting, the slumbering, and the dead, who set out in their owu 
strength, and have been stopped, ensnared and overthrown, by 
various obstacles and enemies. 

CHRISTIANS DISSIMILAR. 

We must not expect that all persons will see the truths of reli- 
gion with equal distinctness, or feel an equal degree of joy, on 
being first brought from darkness into God's marvellous light, 
W' hile some pass in a moment from the deepest distress and an- 
guish, to the most rapturous emotions of joy and gratitude, oth- 
ers are introduced so gradually into the kingdom, that they are 



494 TESTS OF PIETY. 

hardly able to tell when they entered it. The subject may be 
illustrated by the different views and emotions which would be 
excited in three blind persons, of whom one should be restored 
to sight at midnight, another at dawn, and a third amid the 
splendors of the meridian sun. The first, although his sight 
might be as perfectly restored as that of the others, would yet 
doubt, for some time, whether any change had been eflected in 
him, and tremble, lest the faint outlines of the objects around 
him, which he so indistinctly discovered, should prove to be the 
creations of his own fancy. The second, although he might, 
at first, feel almost assured of the change which had been 
wrought upon him, would yet experience a gradually-increasing 
confidence and hope, as the light brightened around him, while 
the third, upon whose surprised and dazzled vision burst at once 
the refulgence of mid-day, would be transported, bewildered, 
and almost overwhelmed, with the excess of surprise, and joy, 
and gratitude. 

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE CHRtSTIAN AND THE 

SINNER. 

Suppose you have a child who frequently disobeys your com- 
mands, and neglects the duties which you require of him, yet, 
if this neglect and disobedience seem to proceed from thought- 
lessness, rather than from a rebellious disposition; if he appears 
sincerely penitent, and every day comes and tells you, with 
tears in his eyes, "Father, I love you; I am sorry that I have 
done wrong; I am ashamed of myself, and wonder that you 
have patience to bear with me, and that you do not disinherit 
me;" — you would love and forgive such a child, and feel that 
there was hope of his reformation. But should your child say, 
or could you read the feeling in his heart, "Father, I cannot 
love you; I have never felt one emotion of love towards you; 
and I have no wish to obey your commands;" would you not 
say, his case is hopeless; there is nothing for me to work upon 
— no feeling, no affection, no desire to do right. 

Suppose you wished to separate a quantity of brass and steel 
filings, mixed together in one vessel, how would you effect this 
separation? Apply a loadstone, and immediately every particle 
of iron will attach itself to it, while the brass remains behind. 



FEAR AND HOPE. 495 

Thus if we see a company of true and false professors of reli- 
gion, we may not be able to distinguish between them; but let 
Christ come among them, and all his sincere followers will be 
attracted towards him, as the steel is drawn to the magnet, while 
those who have none of his spirit, will remain at a distance. 

Suppose we perceive a number of children playing together 
in the street, we could not, without previous knowledge, deter- 
mine who are their parents, or where are their homes. But let 
one of them receive an injury, or get into any trouble, and we 
learn who are his parents, for he immediately runs to them for 
relief Thus it is with the Christian and the man of the world. 
While we observe them together, pursuing the same employ- 
ments, and placed in the same circumstances, we may not be 
able at once to distinguish them. But let afflictions come upon 
them and we are no longer at a loss ; the man of the world seeks 
relief in earthly comforts," while the Christian flies to his heav- 
enly Father, his refuge and support in the day of trouble. 

FEAR AND HOPE. 

True religion consists in a proper mixture of fear of God, and 
of hope in his mercy ; and wherever either of these is entirely 
wanting, there can be no true religion. God has joined these 
things, and we ought by no means to put them asunder. He 
cannot take pleasure in those who fear him with a slavish fear, 
without hoping in his mercy, because they seem to consider him 
as a cruel and tyrannical being, who has no mercy or goodness 
in his nature; and, besides, they implicitly charge him with false- 
hood, by refusing to believe and hope in his invitations and offers 
of mercy. On the other hand, he cannot be pleased with those 
who pretend to hope in his mercy without fearing him ; for they 
insult him by supposing that there is nothing in him which ought 
to be feared ; and in addition to this, they make him a liar, by 
disbelieving his awful threatenings denounced against sinners, 
and call in question his authority, by refusing to obey him. 
Those only who both fear him and hope in his mercy, give him 
the honor that is due to his name. 



496 THE LAW HONORED. 

THE LAW HONORED IN THE SALVATION OF THE 
SINNER. 

That the gospel method of justification by faith in Christ se- 
cures the honor of the law, will appear evident if we consider 
the views and feelings v/hich it requires of all who would be 
justified and saved by this method. These views and feelings, 
taken collectively, are called repentance and faith. Repentance 
consists in hatred of sin, and sorrow on account of it. But sin 
is a transgression of the law. The penitent then hates and 
mourns for every transgression of the law of which he has been 
guilty. But no man can sincerely hate and mourn over his 
transgressions of any law, unless he sees and feels that it is a 
just and good law. If he does not see this, if the law which 
he has transgressed appears in his view unjust, or not good, he 
will hate and condemn, not himself, but the law and the law- 
maker. Every real penitent then sees and acknowledges that 
the law which he has violated, is holy, and just, and good and 
glorious; that he is justly condemned by it, and that he should 
have no reason to complain of God^ if he were left to perisli 
forever. He can say, I deserve the curse, and let no one ever 
think hardly of God, or of his law, though I should perish for- 
ever. And can those who exercise, or those who inculcate such 
feehngs as these, be justly accused of making void, or of dis- 
honoring the law? Do they not rather honor and establish it, 
by taking part with it against themselves, by saying, the law is 
right, and we only are wrong? To place this in a still clearer 
light, permit me to throw into the form of a dialogue, the feel- 
ings which a penitent, believing sinner exercises and expresses, 
when he applies to Christ to be justified or pardoned. Let us 
suppose the Saviour to say to such a person, as he did to those 
who applied to him for relief, while on earth, What wilt thou 
that I should do for thee? Save me. Lord, from my sins, and 
from the punishment which they deserve. In what do thy sins 
consist? They consist. Lord, in numberless transgressions of 
God's law. Is that law unjust? Lord, it is most just. Why, 
then, didst thou transgress it ? Because, O Lord, my heart was 
rebellious and perverse. Canst thou offer no excuse, no plea of 
extenuation of thy sins? None, Lord; I am altogether with- 
out excuse, nor do I wish to offer any. Is not the punishment 
with which thou art threatened too severe ? No, Lord, I do- 



THE LAW HONORED. 497 

serve it all ; nor can I escape it but through thy rich mercy and 
sovereign grace. S^ch is, in effect, the language of every one 
who applies to Christ for salvation ; such the feelings implied in 
the exercise of repentance and faith. 

The gospel method of justification sets before us new and pow- 
erful motives to obey the law. For instance, it presents God, 
the Lawgiver, in a new, and most interesting and affecting 
light. It shows him to us as the God and Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, displaying the most wonderful compassion for our 
lost and guilty race, and so loving our revolted world, as to give 
his only begotten Son to die for its offences. Of all the attitudes 
in which God was ever revealed to his creatures, this is incom- 
parably the most interesting and affecting. It is indeed inter- 
esting to view him as our Creator, our Sovereign, our Preserver 
and Benefactor ; and we are sacredly bound to regard Him, in 
these characters, with gratitude, reverence and love. But how 
much more interesting to see him pitying the sorrows which 
our sins against Him had brought upon us, and taking his only 
Son out of his bosom, to give him up as a ransom to redeem us 
from those sorrows ! If God said to Abraham, Now I know 
that thou lovest me, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine 
Otily son, from me, well may we say to God, Lord, now we 
know that thou lovest us, that thou dost not willingly punish us, 
that thou hast no pleasure in our death, since thou hast given 
thy Son, thine only and well-beloved Son, to die on the cross 
for our sins. Thus the gospel method of salvation by revealing 
God to us in this most interesting and affecting light, powerful- 
ly urges us to love him, to love his law, to repent of having 
disobeyed it, and to obey it hereafter. 

Suppose human legislators could write their laws upon the 
hearts of their subjects. Would they not then secure obedience 
far more effectually than they can now do, by all the penalties 
which they annex to a violation of their laws? If they could give 
all their subjects a disposition to abhor murder, theft, injustice and 
fraud, would they not secure life and property in the most per- 
fect manner 7 Just so, if the law of God can be written in 
men's hearts, if his love can be shed abroad in them, if they 

VOL. I. 63 



498 ADAM OUR REPRESENTATIVE. 

can be made holy, it will secure obedience to that law far more 
effectually than all the thunders and lightnings of Sinai. 

ADAM OUR REPRESENTATIVE. 

It is sometimes asked, how it can be right that we should 
suffer in consequence of the sins of our first parents. In the 
first place, it is right because we imitate their example, and 
thus justify their conduct. We break the covenant, and dis- 
obey the law of God, as well as they. Another answer may be 
given by considering the subject in a different light. The angels 
who kept not their first estate, had no covenant head or repre- 
sentative, but each one stood for himself Yet they fell. God 
was therefore pleased, when he made man, to adopt a different 
constitution of things ; and since it had appeared that holy be- 
ings, endowed with every possible advantage for obeying God's 
law, would disobey it and ruin themselves, he thought proper, 
instead of leaving us, like the angels, to stand for ourselves, to 
appoint a covenant head or representative to stand for us, and 
to enter into covenant with him. Now, let us suppose for a 
moment, that we, and all the human race, had been brought 
into existence at once, and that God had proposed to us, that 
we should choose one of our number to be our representative, 
and to enter into covenant with him on our behalf. Should we 
not, with one voice, have chosen our first parent for this respon- 
sible office 7 Should we not have said, " He is a perfect man, 
and bears the image and likeness of God ? If any one must 
stand or fall for us, let him be the man." Now, since the 
angels, who stood for themselves, fell, why should we wish to 
stand for ourselves 7 And if we must have a representative to 
stand for us, why should we complain, when God has chosen 
the same person for this office, that we should have chosen, had 
we been in existence, and capable of choosing for ourselves ? 

CHRIST OUR REPRESENTATIVE. 

Christ '' bore our sins " in the same sense in which the Jew- 
ish sacrifices, under the law, were said to bear the sins of him 
in whose behalf they were presented. The lamb which was 
offered, did not itself become a sinner ; and as little did Christ, 
our great Sacrifice, become shiful by bearing our sins. When, 
ther?Ore, it is said that God laid on him the iniquities of us all, 



PSALM LXXXV, 10, 11, 499 

and that he bore our sins in his own body on the tree, the 
meaning is, that God laid on him, and that he bore the punish- 
ment which our sins deserved. Our sins were, by his own con- 
sent, imputed to him, or as the word signifies, laid to his ac- 
count : and he, in consequence, though innocent, was treated as 
a sinner. 

PSALM LXXXV. 10, 11. 

It is a maxim in divine, as well as in human laws, thai what 
a man does by another, he does by himself. Now, in and by 
Christ, their surety, all who believe have done and suffered 
every thing which the divine law, and consequently which jus- 
tice, required. In him, they have obeyed the law perfectly, in 
him, they have suffered the curse which is due to sin. He was 
made sm for them, they are made righteous in him ; and thus 
he is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that be- 
lieveth. The law of God is more highly honored by the obedi- 
ence, and the justice of God more clearly displayed in the 
sufferings, of so exalted a personage, than they could have been 
by the obedience or the sufferings of the whole human race. 
Then, in the plan of redemption, God appears to be, at once, a 
just God and a Saviour ; thus he can be just and yet the justi- 
fier of him that believeth in Jesus; and justice and truth, as 
well as mercy and peace, will welcome to heaven every redeemed 
sirmer who is brought there through the merits of Christ. Thus 
we see that these divine attributes, which were set at variance 
by the fall of the first Adam, are re-united and satisfied by the 
atonement of the second. Mercy may now say, I am satisfied, 
for my petitions in behalfof wretched man have been answered, 
and countless millions of that ruined race will sing the praises 
of boundless mercy forever and ever. Truth may say, I am 
satisfied, for God's veracity and faithfulness remain inviolate^ 
notwithstanding the salvation of sinners; and not one word 
that he has ever spoken, has failed of its full accomplishment. 
Justice may say, 1 am satisfied, for the honor of the law over 
which I watch, has been secured ; sin has met with deserved 
punishment ; the Prince of life has died to satisfy my claims ; 
and God has shown the whole universe that he loves me, even 
better than he loves his only Son ; for when that Son cried, in 
agony, Father, spare me, and I demanded that he should not be 



600 GROUNDS OF PARDON. 

spared, God listened to my demands rather than to his cries. 
Finally, Peace may say, I am satisfied, for I have been permit- 
ted to proclaim peace on earth, and have seen God reconciling 
a rebellious world to himself. Come, then, my sister attributes, 
Mercy, Truth and Righteousness, let us once more be united in 
perfec harmony, and join to admire the plan which thus recon- 
ciles us to each other. 



It was highly proper that the unexampled benevolence, hu- 
mility, and other graces which Christ displayed in condescend- 
ing to obey, suffer and die, in our stead, should receive from his 
righteous Father a suitable reward ; and that God should man- 
ifest, in a signal and illustrious manner, his approbation of 
such unequalled goodness, to all his intelligent creatures. But 
the Son of God neither needed, nor could receive any reward 
for himself; for he is the brightness of the Father's glory, and 
the express image of his person, and possesses in the highest 
degree, all possible perfection, glory, and felicity. Since, there- 
fore, it was necessary that Christ should be rewarded, and since 
he needed no reward for himself, his Father was pleased, in the 
covenant of redemption, to promise him what would be to his 
benevolent heart the greatest of all rewards. He promised him 
that if he would make his soul an offering for sin, he should 
have a seed and people to serve him ; and that all his spiritual 
seed, all his chosen people, who were given him by his Father, 
should, for his sake, and as a reward of his obedience, suffering 
and death, be saved from the guilt and power of sin, be adopt- 
ed as the children of God, made joint heirs with Christ of the 
heavenly inheritance, and receive, through him, every thing 
necessary to prepare and qualify them for its enjoyment. Thus 
God bestows everlasting life, glory and felicity on guilty rebels, 
merely for the sake of Christ, and with a view to convince all 
intelligent beings, that he is infinitely well pleased with the 
holy benevolence which his Son displayed, when he consented 
to die in their stead. 

PERFECTIONS OF GOD DISPLAYED IN THE PLAN 
OF REDEMPTION. 

There is more of God, more of his essential glory displayed 



PLAN OF REDEMPTION. 601 

in bringing one sinner to repentance, and forgiving his sins, than 
in all the wonders of creation. In this work, creatures may see, 
if I may so express it, the very heart of God. From this work, 
angels themselves have probably learned more of God's moral 
character than they had ever been able to learn before. They 
knew before that God was wise and powerful ; for they had 
seen him create a world. They knew that he was good ; for he 
had made them perfectly holy and happy. They knew that he 
was just ; for they had seen him cast down their own rebellious 
brethren from heaven to hell for their sins. But until they saw 
him give repentance and remission of sins through Christ, they 
did not know that he was merciful ; they did not know that he 
could pardon a sinner. And O ! what an hour was that in 
heaven when this great truth was first made known ; when the 
first penitent was pardoned ! Then a new song was put into 
the mouths of angels ; and while, with unutterable emotions of 
wonder, love, and praise, they began to sing it, their voices 
swelled to a higher pitch, and they experienced joys unfelt be- 
fore. O how did the joyful sounds, His mercy endureth forev- 
er, spread from choir to choir, echo through the high arches of 
heaven, and thrill through every enraptured angelic breast; and 
how did they cry, with one voice. Glory to God in the highest, 
on earth peace, and good will to man ! 

On no page less ample than that of the eternal, all-enfolding 
mind which devised the gospel plan of salvation, can its glories 
be displayed ; nor by any inferior mind can they be fully compre- 
hended. Suffice it to say, that here the moral character of Jeho- 
vah shines full-orbed and complete — here all the fulness of the 
Godhead, all the insufferable splendors of Deity burst, at once, 
upon our aching sight. Here the manifold perfections of God, 
holiness and goodness, justice and mercy, truth and grace, maj- 
esty and condescension, hatred of sin and compassion for sin- 
ners, are harmoniously blended, like the party-colored rays of 
solar light, in one pure blaze of dazzling whiteness — here, rath- 
er than on any other of his works, he founds his claims to the 
highest admiration, gratitude, and love of his creatures — here 
is the work which ever has called forth, and which through 
eternity will continue to call forth, the most rapturous praises 
of the celestial choirs, and feed the ever-glowing fires of devo- 



502 THE WORLD WITHOUT CHKIST. 

tion in their breasts ; for the glory which shines in the gospel, 
is the glory which illuminates heaven, and the Lamb that was 
slain is the light thereof. 

CONDITION OF THE WORLD WITHOUT A SAVIOUR. 

Would you learn the full extent of that wretchedness which 
sin tends to produce, you must follow it into the eternal world 
and descend into those regions where peace, where hope never 
comes ; and there, by the light of revelation, behold sin tyran- 
nizing over its wretched victims with uncontrollable fury ; fan- 
ning the inextinguishable fire, and sharpening the toolh of the 
immortal worm. See angels and archangels, thrones and do- 
minions, principalities and powers, stripped of all their prime- 
val glory and beauty, bound in eternal chains, and burning 
with rage and malice against that Being, in whose presence 
they once rejoiced, and whose praises they once sung. See 
multitudes of the human race, in unutterable agonies of anguish 
and despair, cursing the gift, the Giver and Prolonger of their 
existence, and vainly wishing for annihilation, to put a period 
to their miseries. Follow them through the long, long ages of 
eternity, and see them sinking deeper and deeper in the bottom- 
less abyss of ruin, perpetually blaspheming God because of 
their plagues, and receiving the punishment of these blasphe- 
mies in continued additions to their wretchedness. Such are 
the wages of sin ; such the doom of the finally impenitent. 
From these depths of anguish and despair, look up to the man- 
sions of the blessed, and see to what a height of glory and fe- 
licity the grace of God will raise every sinner that repenteih. 
See those who are thus favored in unutterable ecstasies of joy, 
love and praise, contemplating God, face to face, reflecting his 
perfect image, shining with a splendor like that of their glorious 
Redeemer, filled with all the fulness of Deity, and bathing in 
those rivers of pleasure which flow forever at God's right hand. 
Follow them in their endless flight towards perfection. See 
them rapidly mounting from height to height, darting onward 
with increasing swiftness, and unwearied wing, towards thai 
infinity which they will never reach. View this, and then say 
whether infinite holiness and benevolence may not, with pro- 
priety, rejoice over every sinner that repenteth. 



THE GOSPEL GLAD TIDINGS. 503 

Do any doubt whether the gospel is indeed glad tidings of 
great joy ? Come with me to the garden of Eden. Look back 
to the hour which succeeded man's apostasy. See the golden 
chain which bound man to God, and God to man, sundered, 
apparently forever, and this wretched world, groaning under 
the weight of human guilt, and its Maker's curse, sinking 
down, far down, into a bottomless abyss of misery and despair. 
See that tremendous Being who is a consuming fire, encircling it 
on every side, and wrapping it, as it were, in an atmosphere of 
flame. Hear from his lips the tremendous sentence, Man has 
sinned, and man must die. See the king of terrors advancing 
with gigantic strides to execute the awful sentence, the grave 
expanding her marble jaws to receive whatever might fall be- 
fore his wide-wasting scythe, and hell beneath, yawning dread- 
ful, to engulf forever its guilty, helpless, despairing victims. 
Such was the situation of our ruined race after the apostasy. 
Endeavor, if you can, to realize its horrors. Endeavor, to for- 
get, for a moment, that you ever heard of Christ or his gospel 
View yourselves as immortal beings hastening to eternity, with 
the curse of God's broken law, like a flaming sword, pursuing 
you ; death, with his dart dipped in mortal poison, awaiting 
you ; a dark cloud, fraught with the lightnings of divine ven- 
geance, rolling over your heads ; your feet standing in slippery 
places, in darkness, and the bottomless pit beneath expecting 
your fall. Then, when not only all hope, but all possibility of 
escape, seemed taken away, suppose the flaming sword sudden- 
ly quenched; the sting extracted; the sun of righteousness 
bursting forth and painting a rainbow on the before threatening 
cloud ; a golden ladder let down from the opening gates of heav- 
en, while a choir of angels, swiftly descending, exclaim, Be- 
hold, we bring you glad tidings of great joy, for unto you is 
born a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. Would you, could you, 
while contemplating such a scene, and listening to the angelic 
message, doubt whether it communicated glad tidings? Would 
you not rather unite with them in exclaiming, Glad tidings ! 
Glad tidings ! Glory to God in the highest, that there is peace 
on earth, and good will to men 7 

CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE. 

It was highly important and desirable that our great High 



504 CHRIST OUR E.X AMPLE. 

Priest should not only obtain for us the heavenly inheritance 
but also go before us, in the path which leads to it ; that he 
should not only describe Christianity in his discourses, but ex- 
emphfy it in his life and conversation. This our blessed Sa- 
viour has done. In him we see pure and undefiled religion 
imbodied. In him Christianity lives and breathes. And how 
amiable, how interesting does she there appear ! How convinc- 
ing, how animating is our Saviour's example ! How loudly, 
how persuasively does his conduct preach ! Would you learn 
submission to parental authority? See him, notwithstanding 
his exalted character, cheerfully subjecting himself to the will 
of his parents, and laboring with them, as a mechanic, for. 
almost thirty years. Would you learn contentment with a poor 
and low condition 7 See him destitute of a place where to lay his 
head. Would you learn active beneficence 7 See him going about 
doing good. Would you learn to be fervent and constant in de- 
votional exercises 7 See him rising for prayer before the dawn 
of day. Would you learn in what maimer to treat your breth- 
ren 7 See him washing his disciples' feet. Would you learn filial 
piety 7 See him forgetting his sufierings, while in the agonies 
of death, to provide another son for his desolate mother. Would 
you learn in what manner to pray for relief under afflictions 7 
See him in the garden. Would you learn how to bear insults 
and injuries? See him on the cross. In short, there is no 
Christian grace or virtue, which it was proper for a perfectly 
innocent being to possess, which is not beautifully exemplified 
in his life ; and there is scarce any situation, however perplex- 
ing, in which the Christian, who is at a loss to know how he 
ought to act, may not derive sufficient instruction from the ex- 
ample of his divine Master. 

CHRIST A TEACHER. 

A celebrated philosopher of antiquity, who was accustomed 
to receive large sums from his pupils, in return for his instruc- 
tions, was one day accosted by an indigent youth, who requested 
admission into the number of his disciples. "And what," said 
the sage, "will you give me in return? "I will give you my- 
self," was the reply. " I accept the gift," answered the sage, 
"and engage to restore you to yourself, at some future period, 
much more valuable than you are at present." In similar Ian- 



REASONS FOR LOVING CHRIST. 505 

guage does our great Teacher address those who apply to him 
for instruction, conscious that they are unable to purchase his 
instructions, and oifering to give him themselves. He will 
readily accept the gift ; he will educate them for heaven, and 
will, at length, restore them to themselves, incomparably more 
wise, more happy, and more valuable, than when he received 
them. 

SONG OF SOLOMON, V. 9. 

Does not our Friend as far excel all other friends, as heaven 
exceeds earth, as eternity exceeds time, as the Creator surpasses 
his creatures 1 If you doubt this, bring together all the glory, 
pomp and beauty of the world ; nay, assemble every thing that 
is great and excellent in all the worlds that ever were created ; 
collect all the creatures which the breath of Omnipotence ever 
summoned into being — and we, on our parts, will place beside 
them our Saviour and Friend, that you may see whether they 
will bear a comparison with him. Look, then, first at your 
idols ; behold the vast assemblage which you have collected, 
and then turn and contemplate our Beloved. See all the fulness 
of the Godhead, dwelling in one who is meek and lowly as a 
child. See his countenance beaming with ineffable glories, full 
of mingled majesty, condescension and love, and hear the soul- 
reviving invitations which proceed from his lips. See that hand 
in which dwells everlasting strength, swaying the sceptre of 
universal empire over all creatures and all worlds ; see his arms 
expanded to receive and embrace returning sinners, while his 
heart, a bottomless, shoreless ocean of benevolence, overflows 
with tenderness, compassion, and love. In a word, see in him 
all natural and moral excellence, personified, and embodied in 
a resplendent form, compared with whose efiulgent, dazzhng 
glories, the splendors of the meridian sun are dark. He speaks, 
and a world emerges from nothing. He frowns, and it sinks to 
nothing again. He waves his hand, and all the creatures which 
you have collected to rival him, sink and disappear. Such, O 
sinner, is our Beloved, and such is our Friend. Will you not 
then embrace him as your Friend ? If you can be persuaded to 
do this, you will find that throne half, nay, that the thousandth 
part has not been told you. 

VOL. I. 64 



506 INVITATIONS OF CHRIST. 

All the excellency, glory and beauty, which is found in men 
or angels, flows from Christ, as a drop of water from the ocean, 
or a ray of light from the sun. If, then, you supremely love 
the creature, can you wonder that Christians should love the 
Creator 1 If you admire an image in a glass, is it strange that 
they should admire the sun by which it was painted ? Can you 
wonder that those who behold the glory of God, in the face of 
Jesus Christ, should be sweetly drawn to him by the cords of 
love, and lose their fondness for created glories? All that you 
love and admire, and wish for, in creatures, and indeed infinitely 
more, they find in him. Do you wish for a friend possessed of 
power to protect you? Our Friend possesses all power in 
heaven and earth, and is able to save even to the uttermost. 
Do you wish for a wise and experienced friend ? In Christ are 
hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Do you wish 
for a tender, compassionate friend 7 Christ is tenderness and 
compassion itself Do you wish for a faithful, unchangeable 
friend ? With Christ there is no variableness, nor shadow of 
turning ; but he is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. 
His unchangeable love will ever prompt him to make his people 
happy ; his unerring wisdom will point out the best means to 
promote their happiness ; and his infinite power will enable him 
to employ those means. In all these respects, our Beloved is 
more than another beloved; for creatures are not always disposed 
to render us happy : when they are disposed to do it, they do 
not always know how ; and when they know how, they are 
often unable. Better is it, therefore, to trust in Christ, than to 
put confidence in princes. 

INVITATIONS OF CHRIST TO THE WEARY AND OPPRESSED. 

To all who are afiiicted either in body, mind or estate; all 
whose worldly hopes and prospects have been blasted by losses 
and disappointments ; all who are weeping over the grave of 
some near and dear relative ; the language of Christ is, Cast 
your burden upon me, and I will sustain thee ; call upon me 
now in the day of trouble, and I Avill answer thee. You have 
found that earthly friends and relations die ; — come, then, to 
me, and find a Friend who cannj)t die ; one who Avill never 
leave nor forsake you, in life or death. You have found that 
treasures laid up on earth, make to themselves wings and fly 






Christ's displeasure at sin. 507 

away ; — come, then, to me, and I will give you treasures which 
never fail, and make you heirs of the heavenly inheritance. 
No longer spend your money for that which is not bread, and 
your labor for that which satisfieth not ; but hearken diligently 
to my call, and come unto me ; hear, and your souls shall live ; 
and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the 
sure mercies of David. 

Christ's displeasure at sin. 

We read of Christ's being angry but three times during the 
whole period of his residence on earth, and in each of those 
instances, his anger was excited not by insults or injuries offered 
to himself, but by conduct which tended to interrupt or frustrate 
his benevolent exertions in doing good. When he w^as reviled 
as a man gluttonous, intemperate, and possessed by a devil, he 
was not angry ; when he was buffeted, spit upon, and crowned 
with thorns, he was not angry ; when nailed to the cross, and 
loaded with insults in his last agonies, he was not angry. But 
when his disciples forbade parents to bring their infant children 
to receive his blessing ; when Peter endeavored to dissuade him 
from dying for sinners ; and when sinners, by their hardness of 
heart, rendered his intended death of no service to themselves; 
then he w^as angry and much displeased. 

Suppose a person whom you had found deserted in the streets 
when an infant, and adopted and educated as your own, should, 
when arrived to manhood, rob and attempt to murder you. 
Suppose him tried, convicted, condemned, and confined to await 
the execution of his sentence. You pity him, forgive him, and 
wish to save his life. You fly to the proper authority, and after 
much expense and labor, obtain an assurance that if he will 
confess his crime, he shall be pardoned. You hasten to his 
dungeon to communicate the happy intelligence. But he refuses 
to hear you, believe you. or confess his fault; regards you w^ith 
aversion, suspicion or contempt, and turns a deaf ear to your 
prayers and entreaties. Would you not be unutterably shocked, 
disappointed and grieved? W^hat, then, must be the feelings of 
Christ, when treated in a similar manner by those whom he 
died to save ! Well may he look on them with anger, being 
grieved for the hardness of their hearts. 



508 DEATH OF CHRIST. 

Come with us a moment to Calvary. See the meek sufferer 
standing, with hands fast bound, in the midst of his enemies, 
sinking under the weight of his cross, and lacerated in every 
part, by the thorny reeds with which he had been scourged. 
See the savage, ferocious soldiers raising, with rude violence, 
his sacred body, forcing it down upon the cross, wresting and 
extending his limbs, and, with remorseless cruelty, forcing 
through his hands and feet the ragged spikes which were to fix 
him on it. See the Jewish priests and rulers watching, with 
looks of malicious pleasure, the horrid scene, and attempting to 
increase his sufferings by scoffs and blasphemies. Now con- 
template attentively the countenance of the wonderful sufferer, 
which seems like heaven opening in the midst of hell, and tell 
me what it expresses. You see it indeed full of anguish, but 
it expresses nothing like impatience, resentment or revenge. On 
the contrary, it beams with pity, benevolence, and forgiveness. 
It perfectly corresponds with the prayer, which, raising his 
mild, imploring eyes to heaven, he pours forth to God — Father, 
forgive them, for they know not what they do. Christian, look 
at your Master, and learn how to suffer. Sinner, look at your 
Saviour, and learn to admire, to imitate, and to forgive. 

SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 

It has been supposed by many, that the sufferings of Christ 
were rather apparent than real ; or at least that his abundant 
consolations, and his knowledge of the happy consequences 
which would result from his death, rendered his sorrows com- 
paratively light, and almost converted them to joys. But never 
was supposition more erroneous. Jesus Christ was as truly a 
man as either of us ; and, as man, he was as really susceptible 
of grief, as keenly alive to pain and reproach, and as much 
averse from pain and suffering, as any of the descendants of 
Adam. As to divine consolation and supports, they were at all 
times bestowed on him in a very sparing manner, and in the 
season of his greatest extremity entirely withheld : and though 
a knowledge of the happy consequences which would result 
from his sufferings rendered him wiUing to endure them, it did 
not in the smallest degree take off their edge, or render him 
insensible to pain. No, his sufferings, instead of being less, 
were incomparably greater than they appeared to be. No finite 



LOVE OF CHRIST. 509 

mind can conceive of their extent, nor was any of the human 
race ever so well entitled to the appellation of the man of sor- 
rows, as the man Jesus Christ. 

As Christ died for all, so he felt and wept for the sufferings of 
all. The temporal and eternal calamities of the whole human 
race, and of every individual among them all, seemed to be 
collected and laid upon him. He saw, at one view, the whole 
mighty aggregate of human guilt and human wretchedness, 
and his boundless benevolence and compassion made it, by 
sympathy, all his own. It has been said by philosophers, that 
if any man could see all the misery which is daily felt in the 
world, he would never smile again. We need not wonder then, 
that Christ, who saw it all, never smiled, though he often wept. 

LOVE OF CHRIST. 

In order to form some faint conception of the love of Chriist, 
suppose, my Christian friends, that all your toils and sufferings 
were ended, and you were safely arrived in heaven, the rest 
which remains for the people of God. Suppose that you were 
there crowned with glory, and honor, and immortality, listening 
with unutterable ecstacies to the song of the redeemed, contem- 
plating the ineffable, unveiled glories of Jehovah, drinking full 
draughts from those rivers of pleasure which flow forever at his 
right hand, and tasting those joys which the heart of man hath 
not conceived. What would tempt you to revisit this vale of 
tears, commence anew the wearisome journey of life, and en- 
counter all the toils, the temptations, the sufferings and sorrows 
which attend it 7 Must it not be love stronger than death, love 
such as you cannot conceive of, which would induce you to do 
this? How infinite, how inconceivable, then, must have been 
that love which brought down the Son of God from the celestial 
world to redeem our ruined race! which led him to exchange 
the bosom of his Father for a veil of flesh ; the adoration of 
angels for the scoffs and insults of sinners; and the enjoyment 
of eternal life for an accursed, painful and ignominious death ! 
Nothing but love could have done this. Not all the powers of 
heaven, earth and hell combined, could have dragged him from 
his celestial throne, and wrested the sceptre of the universe 
from his hands. No, it was love alone, divine, omnipotent love, 



610 SELF-DENIAL OF CHRIST. 

which drew him down ; it was in the bands of love that he 
was led a willing captive, through all the toils and sufferings of 
a laborious life; and it was these bands which bound him at the 
bar of Pilate, which fettered his arm of everlasting strength, 
and prevented his blasting his murderers. 

Unless we could ascend into heaven, and see the glory and 
happiness which our Redeemer left ; unless we could descend 
into the grave, and learn the depths of wretchedness to which 
he sank ; unless we could weigh, as in a balance, all the trials, 
toils and sufferings of his life ; never, never can we know the 
immeasurable extent of his love. But these things we cannot 
do. None but the omniscient God knows what he felt, or what 
he suffered ; none but the omniscient God, therefore, knows the 
extent of his love. 

To think of the love of Christ, is like trying to conceive ot 
existence which has no beginning, and of power which can 
make something of nothing. Tongue cannot describe it ; finite 
minds cannot conceive of it ; angels faint under it ; and those 
who know most of it can only say, with inspiration, that it 
passeth knowledge. 

S E L F-D ENIAL OF CHRIST. 

The life of Christ was one of self-denial. He denied himself, 
for thirty years, all the glories and felicity of the heavenly 
world ; and exposed himself to all the pains and sorrows of a 
life on earth. He denied himself the praises and adorations of 
saints and angels; and exposed himself to the blasphemies and 
reproaches of men. He denied himself the presence and enjoy- 
ment of God; and exposed himself to the society of publicans 
and sinners. He denied himself every thing that nature desires ; 
he exposed himself to every thing she dreads and abhors; to 
poverty, contempt, pain and death. When he entered on his 
glorious and godlike design, he renounced all regard to his own 
comfort and convenience, and took up the cross, a cross infi- 
nitely heavier and more painful than any of his disciples had 
been called to bear, and continued to carry it through a rough 
and thorny road, till his human nature, exhausted, sunk under 
the weight. In short, he considered himself, his time, his tal- 



Christ's reward. 611 

ents, his reputation, his happiness, his very existence, as not his 
own, but another's ; and he ever emy)loyed them accordingly. 
He lived not for himself, he died not for himself; but for others 
he lived, and for others he died. 

HE SHALL SEE OF THE TRAVAIL OF HIS SOUL. 

How great, how inconceivable will be our Saviour's happi- 
ness, after the final consummation of all things ! Then the 
})lan for which our world was formed will be completed. Then 
every member of the church, for the sake of which he loved 
and visited our world, will have been brought home to heaven, 
to be with him where he is. And if he loved, and rejoiced, and 
delighted in them before they existed, and before they knew 
and loved him, how will he love and rejoice in them when he 
sees them surrounding his throne, perfectly resembling himself 
in body and soul; loving him with unutterable love, contempla- 
ting him with ineffable delight, and praising him as their deliv- 
erer from sin, and death, and hell ; as the author of all their 
everlasting glory and felicity! Then, — O blessed, animating 
thought ! — he will be amply rewarded for all his sufferings, and 
for all his love to our ruined race ; then his people shall cease 
to grieve and offend him; then they shall no longer degrade him 
by weak, confused, inadequate conceptions of his person, char- 
acter, and work ; for then shall they see as they are seen, ard 
know even as they are known. Then the whole church shall 
be presented to him, a glorious church, without spot or blemish, 
or imperfection ; and shall be as a crown of glory in the hand 
of the Lord, and as a royal diadem in the hand of our God. 
Then, O Zion, as a bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall 
thy God rejoice over thee. Then shall thy sun no more go 
down, nor thy moon withdraw itself; but the Lord shall be 
thine everlasting light, and thy God, thy glory; and the days 
of thy mourning, and of thy Saviour's suffering, shall be ended. 

If we love, and prize, and rejoice in any object, in proportion 
to the labor, pain, and expense which it has cost us to obtain it, 
how greatly must Christ love, and prize, and rejoice in every 
penitent sinner ! His love and joy must be unutterable, incon- 
ceivable, infinite. For once, I rejoice that our Saviour's toils 
and sufferings were so great, since the greater they were, the 



512 CONDESCENSION OF CHRIST. 

greater must be his love for us, and his joy in our conversion. 
And if he thus rejoiceth over one sinner that repenteth, what 
must be his joy, when all his people are collected, out of every 
tongue, and kindred, and people, and nation, and presented 
spotless before his Father's throne ! What a full tide of felicity 
will pour in upon him, and how will his benevolent heart ex- 
pand with unutterable delight, when, contemplating the count- 
less myriads of the redeemed, he says. Were it not for my suf- 
ferings, all these immortal beings would have been, throughout 
eternity, as miserable, and now they will be as happy, as God 
can make them ! It is enough. I see of the travail of my soul, 
and am satisfied. 

CONDESCENSION AND LOVE OF CHRIST. 

The meanest beggar, the vilest wretch, the most loathsome, 
depraved, abandoned sinner, is perfectly welcome to the arms 
and the heart of the Saviour, if he comes with the temper of 
the penitent prodigal. To all who come with this temper, he 
ever lends a gracious ear ; he listens to catch the first peniten- 
tial sigh ; he watches their first feeble step towards the path of 
duty ; he prevents them with his grace, hastens to meet them, 
and while they are ready to sink at his feet with mingled 
shame, confusion and grief, he puts underneath them his ever- 
lasting arms, embraces, cheers, supports and comforts them ; 
wipes away their tears, washes away their stains, clothes them 
with his righteousness, unites them to himself forever, and feeds 
them with the bread and water of life. Thus he binds up the 
broken reed, enkindles the smoking flax, and, like a most ten- 
der, compassionate shepherd, gathers the helpless lambs in his 
arms, and carries them in his bosom. Thus, by the conde- 
scending grace of our Immanuel, heaven is brought down to 
earth ; the awful majesty, and inaccessible glories of Jehovah, 
are shrouded in a veil of flesh ; a new and living way is opened 
for our return to God ; and sinful, guilty worms of the dust 
may talk with their Maker face to face, as a man talketh with 
his friend. 

Trembling sinner, desponding Christian, permit me to take 
you by the hand and lead you to Jesus. Why do you linger, 
why do you hang back? It is to Christ, it is to Jesus, it is to 



LANGUAGE OF PENITENCE. 513 

the Babe of Bethlehem, to a man lilce yourselves, to the meek 
and lowly Saviour of sinners, that I would bring you. Here 
are no terrors, no flaming sword, no burning throne to appal you. 
Come, then, to his feet, to his arms, to his heart, which overflows 
with compassion for your perishing souls. Come and contemp- 
late the glory of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace 
and truth, and receive of his fulness grace for grace. 

COMPASSION AND CONDESCENSION OF CHRIST. 

Fear not, says the Saviour to his penitent, heart-broken disciple. 
Fear not, trembling, desponding soul. My glory, my perfections 
need not alarm thee, for they are all engaged on thy side, all pledg- 
ed to secure thy salvation. Tell me not of thy sins. I will take 
them away. Tell me not of thy weakness, thy folly and igno- 
rance. I have treasures of wisdom and knowledge, and strength 
for thee. Tell me not of the weakness of thy graces. My 
grace is sufficient for thee, for its riches are unsearchable. Tell 
me not of the difficulties which oppose thy salvation. Is any 
thing too hard for me? Tell me not that the favors thou 
art receiving are too great for thee. 1 know they are too great 
for thee to merit, but they are not too great for me to give. Nay, 
more, I will give thee greater things than these. I will not 
only continue to pardon thy sins, bear with thine infirmities, and 
heal thy bacj^slidings ; but give thee larger and larger measures 
of my grace, make thee more and more useful in the world, 
render thee more than a conqueror over all thine enemies, and 
at death wipe away forever all thy tears ; receive thee to the 
mansions which my Father has prepared for thee in heaven, 
and cause thee to sit down with me on my throne forever and 
ever. Thus does Christ comfort those that mourn ; thus he en- 
courages the desponding, thus exalts those that humble themselves 
at his feet; and constrains them to cry, in admiring transports 
of gratitude and love. Who, O who is a God like unto thee, for- 
giving iniquity, transgression and sin? 

DEPAllT FROM ME, FOR I AM A SINFUL MAN, O LORD. 

As our views of our own sinfulness, and of the abominable 
malignity of sin. are always in direct proportion to our views of 
the divine purity and glory, the Christian never appears to him- 
self so unspeakably vile, so totally unworthy of his Saviour's 

VOL. I. €5 



614 LANGUAGE OF PENITENCE. 

love, or so unfit to enjoy his presence, as at the very time when 
he is favored with these blessings, in the highest degree. The 
consequence is that he is astonished, confounded, crushed and 
overwhelmed by a display of goodness so undeserved, so unex- 
pected. When he has perhaps been ready to conclude that he 
was a vile hypocrite, and to give up all for lost; or, if not to 
fear that God would bring upon him some terrible judgment for 
his sins, and make him an example to others — then to see his 
much-insulted Saviour, his neglected Benefactor, his injured 
Friend, suddenly appear to deliver him from the consequences 
of his own folly and ingratitude ; to see him come with smiles 
and blessings, when he expected nothing but upbraidings, threat- 
cnings, and scourges — it is too much; he knows not how to bear 
it J he scarcely dares take the consolation offered him; bethinks 
it must be all a delusion. Even when convinced beyond a doubt, 
that it is not so; when he feels the healing virtue of his kind 
Physician, pervading his whole soul, and sees him stooping to 
cleanse, to comfort, and embrace him, he shrinks back, involun- 
tarily, as if the spotless Saviour would be contaminated by his 
touch; sinks down ashamed and broken-hearted at his feet; feels 
im worthy and unable to lookup; and the more condescendingly 
Christ stoops to embrace him, so much lower and lower does he 
sink in the dust. At length his emotions find utterance, and he 
cries, O Lord, treat me not thus kindly. Such favors belong to 
those, only, who do not requite thy love as I have done. How 
can it be just, how can it be right to give them to one so unde- 
serving? Thy kindness is lavished upon me in vain; thy mer- 
cies are thrown away upon one so incorrigibly vile. If thou 
pardon me now, I shall offend thee again ; if thou heal my back- 
slidings, I shall again wander from thee ; if thou cleanse me, I 
shall again become polluted: thou must, O Lord, give me up — 
thou must leave me to perish, and bestow thy favors on those 
who are less unworthy, less incurably prone to offend thee. 
Such are often the feelings of the broken-hearted penitent ; thus 
does he shrink from the mercy which pursues him, thus seems 
to plead against himself; and, though he desires and prizes noth- 
ing so much as his Saviour's presence, feels constrained by a 
sense of his vileness and pollution, to ask him, and almost wish 
liim to depart, and leave him to the fate which he so richly de- 
serves. 



I 



JOY OF COMMUNING WITH GOD. 515 



JOY OF COMMUNING WITH GOD. 

At limes, God is pleased to admit his children to nearer ap- 
proaches, and more intimate degrees of fellowship with himself 
and his Son, Jesus Christ. He sends down the spirit of adop- 
tion into their hearts, whereby they are enabled to cry Abba, 
Father! and to feel those lively affections of love, joy, trust, 
hope, reverence and dependence, which it is at once their duty 
and their happiness to exercise tov/ards their Father in heaven. 
By the influences of the same Spirit he shines into their minds, 
to give them the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, in 
the face of Jesus Christ ; causes his glory to pass before them, 
and makes them, in some measure, to understand the perfections 
of his nature. He also reveals to them the unutterable, incon- 
ceivable, unheard of things, which he has prepared for those 
who love him ; applies to them his exceeding great and precious 
promises ; makes them to know that great love wherewith he 
has loved them, and thus causes them to rejoice with joy un- 
speakable and full of glory. He shines in upon their souls with 
the dazzling, melting, overpowering beams of grace and mercy- 
proceeding from the Sun of righteousness, gives them to know 
the heights and the depths, the lengths and the breadths, of the 
lore of Christ, which passeth knowledge, and fills them with 
all the fulness of God. The Christian, in these bright, enrap- 
tured moments, while thus basking in beams of celestial light 
and splendor, forgets himself, forgets his existence, and is wholly 
absorbed in the ravishing, the ecstatic contemplation of uncre- 
ated beauty and loveliness. He endeavors to plunge himself 
into the boundless ocean of divine glory which opens to his view, 
and longs to be wholly swallowed up and lost in God. His 
whole soul goes forth in one intense flame of gratitude, admira- 
tion, love and desire. He contemplates, he wonders, he admires, 
he loves and adores. His soul dilates itself beyond its ordinary 
capacity, and expands to receive the flood of happiness which 
overwhelms it. All its desires are satisfied. It no longer in- 
quires, who will show us any good, but returns unto its rest, be- 
cause the Lord hath dealt bountifully with it. The scanty, 
noisy, thirst-producing streams of worldly delight only increase 
the feverish desires of the soul; but the tide of joy which flows 



516 CALL TO CHRISTIANS. 

in upon the Christian, is silent, deep, full and satisfying. All 
the powers and faculties of his mind are lost, absorbed, and 
swallowed up in the contemplation of infinite glory. With an 
energy and activity unknown before, he roams and ranges 
through the ocean of light and love, where he can neither find 
a bottom nor a shore. No language can utter his feelings ; but, 
with an emphasis, a meaning, an expression, which God alone 
could excite, and which he alone can understand, he breathes 
out the ardent emotions of his soul, in broken words, while he 
exclaims, my Father and my God. 

TO CHRISTIANS IN THE COMMENCEMENT OF A REVIVAL. 

Yes, O Christian, whoever you are, however tempted and dis- 
tressed, however languishing and despairing you may be, the 
Master is come, and calleth for thee. He does, as it were, call 
thee by name, for he knows the names of his sheep; they are 
engraven on the palms of his hands, and he cannot forget them. 
His language is. Where is this, and that, and the other one, 
among my flock, who used to watch for the tokens of my ap- 
proach, and come at the sound of my voice? Why do they not 
come to welcome my return, and rejoice in my presence? Have 
they backslidden and wandered from my fold? Go, and tell 
them that their Shepherd is come, and calleth for them. Say 
unto them. How long will ye go about, O backsliding people? 
Return unto me, and I will heal your backslidings. Are they 
tempted and distressed? Go, and tell them that their High 
Priest and Intercessor, one who has been in all points tempted 
like as they are, and who can therefore be touched with the 
feeling of their infirmities, is come, and calleth for them to 
spread their temptations and afliictions before him. Are they 
borne down with a load of guilt, and the weight of their sins 
against me, so that they are ashamed to look me in the face 1 
Tell them that I will receive them graciously, and love them 
freely. Are they carried away by their spiritual enemies, and 
bound in the fetters of vice, so that they cannot come to wel- 
come me? Tell them that I am come to proclaim deliverance 
to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are 
bound ; to rescue the lambs of my flock from the paw of the 
lion and the jaws of the bear. Are they oppressed with fears 
ihat they shall one day perish by the hand of their enemies? 



CALL TO CHRISTIANS. 617 

Go and tell them that my sheep never perish, and that none 
shall finally pluck them out of my hand. Are they slumbering 
and sleeping, insensible of my approach? Go and awake them 
with the cry. Behold the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him. 
It is profitable for the children of God often to reflect on what 
they formerly were, to meditate on their once wretched and 
helpless condition, to look to the rock whence they were hewn, 
and to the pit whence they were digged. Look back, then. 
Christians, to the time when you, who are now the children of 
God, the members of Christ, and the temples of the Holy Spirit, 
were the enemies of God, the despisers of his Son, and the 
willing slaves of the father of lies, who wrought in you as chil- 
dren of disobedience ; when your hearts were hard as the nether 
millstone, your understandings darkened and alineated from the 
hfe of God; your wills stubborn, perverse and rebellious ; your 
aflections madly bent on the pleasures of sin ; and every imagi- 
nation of the thoughts of your hearts was evil only, and continual- 
ly evil. Look back with shame and self-abhorrence to the time 
when you lived without God in the world, when you drank in ini- 
quity like water, serving diverse lusts and vanities, and fulfilling 
the desires of the flesh and the mind ; casting God's law behind 
your backs, stifling the remonstrances of conscience quenching the 
influences of the divine Spirit, neglecting the Holy Scriptures, and 
coming to the house of God, from Sabbath to Sabbath, not to 
honor him in the assembly of his saints, or to learn your duty, 
— but to mock him wit'h pretended worship, while youi hearts 
were far from him. How many calls and invitations did you 
there slight ! How many sermons did you hear as though you 
heard not ! How many prayers were oflered up in your pres- 
ence, while you, perhaps, never considered, for a moment, in 
what you were engaged, but suffered your thoughts to wander 
to the ends of the earth! Even then, God was watching over 
you for good; and yet how ungratefully did you requite him ! 
How many mercies did you receive without making one grate- 
ful acknowledgment ! How did you strive to provoke him to 
jealousy, and lead him, if possible, to alter his gracious designs 
in your favor! A rebel against God, a crucifier of Christ, a re- 
sister of the divine Spirit, a slave of Satan, a child of wrath, 
an heir of hell; — such, O Christian, was once thy character; 
and nothing, in human view, was then before thee, but a fear- 
ful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation. 



518 UNION WIT H C HR 1ST, 

When we remember an absent friend, we usually think with 
deep interest of the place where he is, of the business in which 
he is engaged^ and of the time when we shall meet him. Chris- 
tians, you know where your Master is. You know what he is 
doing. You know that he now appears in the presence of God 
for you; that he ever liveth to make intercession for you ; and 
that, ere long, you shall see him and be with him. Think then, 
much and often, of the heaven where he resides, of the perfect 
wisdom, fidelity, and constancy, with which he there manages 
your concerns. Remember that he watches for you while you 
sleep; that he labors for you while you are idle; that he inter- 
cedes for 3''ou, even while you are sinning against him. Will 
you, then, ever sin ? Will you, while awake, ever be idle? Will 
you be unfaithful, or slothful in laboring for him, while he is 
ever active and faithful in promoting your interests? 

CHRISTIANS, MEMBERS OF THE BODY OF CHRIST. 

Since Christ is the head of the body of which Christians are 
members, he has a right to expect the same services from them, 
which we expect from our members. Now what we expect 
from our members is, that every one, in its proper place, should 
perform the services allotted it; executing the purposes, and 
obeying the commands o{ the head. We do not expect that each 
member should have a separate will, or pursue a separate inter- 
est, or act in any respect as if it were independent. If any part 
of our bodies does not fulfil these expectations, and yield prompt 
and implicit obedience to our will, we conclude it to be diseased; 
and if the acts of the will produce no effect upon it, we conclude 
it to be dead, and remove it, if possible, as a useless encum- 
brance. We further expect that our members, instead of attempt- 
ing to provide, each one, for its own wants, will depend upon the 
wisdom and foresight of the head, for all necessary supplies. In 
a word, we know that it is the part of the head to plan, direct 
and provide, and the part of the members to obey and execute. 
Precisely similar are the duties of Christians, considered as the 
members of Christ. No Christian must have a separate will, or 
a separate interest of his own, or act, in any respect, as if he were 
an insulated, independent individual. As there is but one head, 
so there must be but one governing, guiding will, and that must 
be the will of Christ. If any neglect to execute his will, they 



THE christian's CONSOLATION. 519 

are spiritually diseased; and if this neglect be habitual, they are 
spiritually dead, and were never really united to Christ, for his 
real members never die. It is also their duty to depend on him 
for every thing, for the supply of all their temporal and spirit- 
ual necessities; and never to attempt any thing but in reliance 
on his wisdom, grace and strength. As well may our feet walk 
safely, or our hands work skilfully, without assistance and 
guidance from the head, as Christians can perform any ser- 
vice without the grace of Christ their head, in whom are laid 
up all the treasures of wisdom, and knowledge, and grace. 

THE christian's CONSOLATION. 

Christians, a man now fills the throne of heaven. And who 
is this man? Believer, mark it well. It is a man who is not 
ashamed to call you brother. It is a man who can be touched 
with the feeling of your infirmities, for he has been in all 
points tempted like as you are, yet without sin. Whatever your 
sorrows or trials may be, he knows by experience how to sym- 
pathize with you. Has your Heavenly Father forsaken you, 
so that you walk in darkness and see no light ? He well re- 
members what he felt, when he cried. My God, my God, why 
hast thou forsaken me I Has Satan wounded you with his fiery- 
darts? He remembers how sorely his own heart was bruised 
when he wrestled with principalities and powers, and crushed 
the head of the prince of darkness. Are you assaulted with 
various and distressing temptations? Christ was tempted to 
doubt whether he were the Son of God, to presume upon his 
Father's love, and to worship the father of lies. Are you pressed 
down with a complication of sorrows, so as to despair even ot 
life ? The soul of Christ was once exceeding sorrowful, even unto 
death. Are you mourning for the danger of unbelieving friends? 
Christ's own brethren did not believe in him. Does the world 
persecute and despise you, or are your enemies those of your 
own household ? Christ was despised and rejected of men, and 
his own relations stigmatized him as a madman. Are you suf- 
fering under slanderous and unjust accusations ? Christ was 
called a man gluttonous, and a wine-bibber, a friend of publi- 
cans and sinners. Are you struggling with the evils of pover- 
ty? Jesus had not where to lay his head. Do Christian friends 
forsake, or treat you unkindly ? Christ was denied and forsa- 



520 THE CHRISTIANAS CONSOLATION. 

ken by his own disciples. Are you distressed with fears of 
death 1 Christ has entered the dark valley that he might des- 
troy death. O, then, banish all your fears. Look at your mer- 
ciful High Priest who is passed unto the heavens, and trium- 
phantly exclaim with the apostle, Who shall separate us from 
the love of Christ 1 

The professed disciple of Christ, who desponds and trembles, 
when he hears his Master calling him to go on to perfection, 
may derive courage and support from looking at the promises 
of Christ, and at their Author. Among the blessings promised, 
you will find every thing which any man can need, to assist 
him in arriving at perfection. There are promises of light and 
direction to find the path which leads to it ; promises of assist- 
ance to walk in that path ; promises of strength to resist and 
overcome all opposition ; promises of remedies to heal us when 
wounded, of cordials to invigorate us when faint, and of most 
glorious rewards to crown the end of our course. You will hear 
Jehovah saying, Fear not, for I am with thee ; be not dismay- 
ed, for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee ; yea, I will help 
thee ; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righte- 
ousness. Though thou art in thyself but a worm, thou shalt 
thresh the mountains, and beat them small as the dust. Look 
next at him who gives these promises. It is one who is almigh. 
ty, and who therefore can fulfil them. It is one who cannot 
lie, and therefore will fulfil them. It is one who possesses all 
power in heaven and on earth ; one whose treasures of grace 
are unsearchable and inexhaustible; one in whom dwells all the 
fulness of the Godhead bodily. With all this fulness, faith 
indissolubly unites us. Say, then, ye who despond and trem- 
ble, when you contemplate the almost immeasurable distance 
between your own moral characters and that of Christ, what, 
except faith in these promises and in their Author, is necessary, 
to support, encourage, and animate you in going on to perfec- 
tion ? If Christ himself is perfect ; if faith makes you members 
of this perfect head; if it causes his fulness to flow into your 
souls, — then it is most evident that he can and will enable all, 
who exercise faith in him, to imitate his example, and finally to 
become perfect as he is perfect. 



I 



THE christian's CONSOLATION. 521 

Let not the Christian listen to the suggestions of indolence, 
despondency and unbelief; but let him listen rather to the calls 
and promises of Christ. See what he has already done for those 
of our race who relied on his grace. Look at Enoch, who 
walked with God; at Abraham, the friend of God ; at Moses, 
the confidential servant of God; at Daniel, the man greatly be- 
loved of God; at Stephen, full of faith and the Holy Ghost; 
at St. Paul, glowing with an ardor like that of " the rapt seraph, 
who adores and burns ;" and at the many other worthies with 
whom the historian and biographer have made us acquainted. 
See to what heights they soared, how nearly they approached 
to perfection. And who enabled them to make these approach- 
es, to soar to these heights? He, I answer, who now calls upon 
you to follow them ; He who now otfers you the same assist- 
ance which he afforded them. Rely, then, with full confidence 
on his perfections and promises, and recommence with new 
vigor your Christian warfare. Do you still hesitate and linger? 
O thou of little faith, wherefore dost thou doubt ? Why cast 
round a trembling, desponding glance upon the roaring wind 
and stormy waves which oppose thy progress ? Look rather 
at him who calls thee onward; at the omnipotent arm, which 
is to be thy strength and support. Look till you feel faith, and 
hope, and courage, reviving in your breast. Then say to your 
Lord, I come. I will follow where thou leadest the way. I 
will once more aim, with renovated strength, at the perfection 
which 1 have long deemed unattainable. 

This world is the place for labor, and not for rest, or enjoy- 
ment, except that enjoyment which may be found in serving 
God. We shall have time enough in the coming Avorld to rest, 
and to converse with our friends ; and it may well reconcile us 
to separation here, if we hope to be forever with them there. 

The young Christian thinks it would be best that he should 
be always lively, zealous, and engaged in religion; that he 
should feel faith, love and humility in constant exercise, and 
be like a flame of fire in his Master's service. But our blessed 
Teacher thinks otherwise. He knows that the most effectual, 
and, indeed, the only way, to mortify sin in our hearts, is to 
make us hate it ; and the way to make us hate it is to suffer us 

VOL I. 66 



622 CHRIST UNCHANGEABLE. 

to feel it. He knows that the only way to make us fervent and 
diligent in prayer, is to show us how many things we have to 
pray for, and convince us of our absolute need of his assistance. 
He knows that the best way to make us humble and contented 
is to show us what we are, and what we deserve; and that the 
only way to wean us from the world, is, to render it a place of 
fatigue and uneasiness. He knows that there is nothing like 
the want of his presence to teach us the worth of it ; and noth- 
ing like a sense of the dangerous nature of our disease, to show 
us the value of an almighty Physician. Upon this plan, there- 
fore, it is, that all his various dispensations towards Christians 
are conducted ; and till they are acquainted with this, they can- 
not understand them. 

CHRIST UNCHANGEABLE. 

As, amid all the vicissitudes of the seasons, the succession of 
day and night, and the changes of the weather, the sun remains 
and shines in the same part of the heavens; so, amid all the 
daily changes which the Christian experiences, from darkness 
to light, and from summer to winter, in calms and tempests, the 
Sun of righteousness still continues the same ; and 'tis the same 
love and wisdom which leads him to hide or to unveil his face. 
But the Christian is at first ready to imagine that the changes 
in his feelings proceed from changes in Christ ; as those who 
do not consider the motion of the earth, fancy that the sun 
really rises and sets. 

Above all, I would say to the Christian, never distrust the 
kindness, the love, the wisdom and faithfulness of your Sa- 
viour ; but confide in him who has promised that all things 
shall work together for your good. Though you may not now 
know what he is doing, you shall know hereafter. You will 
see the reason of all the trials and temptations, the dark and 
comfortless hours, the distressing doubts and fears, the long and 
tedious conflicts with which you are now exercised; and you 
will be convinced that not a sigh, not a tear, not a single uneasy 
thought was allotted you, without some wise and gracious 
design. Say not, then, like .Jacob of old, All these things are 
against me ; say not, like David, I shall one day perish by tho 
hand of Saul ; for all these things are for your good, and you 



i 



CHRIST A HELPEE. 523 

shall never perish, neither shall any pluck you out of Christ's 
hand. Why should you, who are sons of the King of heaven, 
be lean and discontented from day to day? Remember that, if 
you are in the path of the just, you are the heir of God and 
joint heir with Christ, of an inheritance incorruptible, eternal, 
and that fadeth not away. Be not discouraged at the small 
progress you appear to make, or the difficulties you may meet 
with. Why should the infant be discouraged because he has 
not the strength of manhood, or the wisdom of age? Wait on 
the Lord in the diligent use of his appointed means, and he will 
strengthen your hearts, so that you shall mount up as on eagles' 
wings ; you shall run, and not be weary ; you shall walk, and 
not faint. 

Who is he that walketh in darkness and hath no light ? Let 
him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay himself upon his 
God. Let him go to Jesus, the compassionate Saviour of sin- 
ners, who heals the broken in heart, who gathers the lamhs in 
his arms, and carries them in his bosom. Go, I say, to him ; 
tell him all your griefs and sorrows ; tell him that your souls 
cleave to the dust; that iniquities, doubts and fears prevail 
against you ; that you are poor, and miserable, and wretched, 
and blind and naked. Go to his mercy-seat, where he sits as a 
merciful High Priest, on purpose to give repentance and remis- 
sion of sins ; go and embrace his feet, lay open your whole 
hearts, state all your difficulties, complaints and diseases, and 
you will find him infinitely more gracious than you can con- 
ceive ; infinitely more willing to grant your requests than you 
are to make them. He is love itself; 'tis his very nature to 
pity. Have you a hard heart? — carry it to him, and he will 
soften it. Have you a blind mind? — he will enlighten it. Are 
you oppressed with a load of guilt? — he will take it oif. Are 
you defiled and polluted? — he will wash you in his own blood. 
Have you backslidden ? — turn unto me, says he, ye backsliding 
children, and I will heal your backslidings. Come, then, to 
Christ, and obtain those influences of his Spirit by which you 
shall be enabled to grow in grace and in the knowledge of your 
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. So shall your path be as the 
shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. 



524 THE BIBLE. 

How great are the privileges which result from an ability to 
say, Christ is mine ! If Christ is yours, then all that he possess- 
es is yours. His power is yours, to defend you ; his wisdom 
and knowledge are yours, to guide you ; his righteousness is 
yours, to justify you ; his spirit and grace are yours, to sancti.- 
fy you ; his heaven is yours, to receive you. He is as much 
yours as you are his, and as he requires all that you have to be 
given to him, so he gives all that he has to you. Come to him, 
then, with holy boldness, and take what is your own. Remem- 
ber you have already received what is most difficult for him to 
give — his body, his blood, his life. And surely he who has 
given these, will not refuse you smaller blessings. You will 
never live happily or usefully, you will never highly enjoy or 
greatly adorn religion, until you can feel that Christ, and all 
that he possesses, are yours, and learn to come and take them 
as your own. 

THE BIBLE ENTIRELY PRACTICAL. 

We may challenge any man to point out a single passage in 
the Bible, which does not either teach some duty, or inculcate 
its performance, or show the grounds on which it rests, or ex- 
hibit reasons why we should perform it. For instance ; all the 
preceptive parts of Scripture prescribe our duty; all the invita- 
tions invite us to perform it; all the promises and threatenings 
are motives to its performance ; all the cautions and admoni- 
tions warn us not to neglect it ; the historical parts inform us 
what have been the consequences of neglecting and of per- 
forming it; the prophetical parts show us what these con- 
sequences will be hereafter ; and the doctrinal parts show us 
on what grounds the whole superstructure of duty, or of prac- 
tical religion, rests. 

In the judgment of God there is no more henious sin than 
that of hearing, with unconcern, his messages of love and mer- 
cy. Doth not my word do good to him that walketh uprightly? 
It always does. Yet Christians often go away from hearing 
the word unaflfected. 

DUTY OF STUDYING THE BIBLE. 

The Scriptures are given to us as a rich mine, in which we 



PRAYER. 625 

may labor, and appropriate to ourselves all ihe treasures we 
find ; and the more diligently we labor, and the more wealth 
we obtain, so much the more is the Giver pleased. As we can- 
not be too careful not to pry into things secret, so we cannot be 
too diligent in searching into every thing which God has re- 
vealed. And if we search in the manner which he has pre- 
scribed, we shall make all the good things contained in the 
Scriptures our own in a still higher sense. We shall make that 
God, that Saviour, that holiness, that heaven, which the Bible 
reveals, our own forever, our own to possess and to enjoy. In 
short, every truth which it reveals is ours to enlighten us ; every 
precept is ours to direct us ; every admonition is ours to warn 
us ; every promise is ours to encourage and animate us. For 
these purposes God has given, and for these purposes we are to 
receive them. 

PRAYER. 

We may judge of the state of our hearts by the earnestness 
of our prayers. You cannot make a rich man beg like a poor 
man ; you cannot make a man that is full cry for food like one 
that is hungry : no more will a man who has a good opinion of 
himself, cry for mercy like one who feels that he is poor and 
needy. 

The symptoms of spiritual decline are like those which at- 
tend the decay of bodily health. It generally commences with 
loss of appetite, and a disrelish for spiritual food, prayer, read- 
ing the Scriptures, and devotional books. Whenever you per- 
ceive these symptoms, be alarmed, for your spiritual health is 
in danger; apply immediately to the great Physician for a 
cure. 

The best means of keeping near to God is the closet. Here 
the battle is won or lost. 

If a man begins to be impatient because his prayers for any 
blessings are not answered, it is a certain proof, that a self- 
righteous dependence on his own merits prevails in his heart to 
a great extent ; for the language of impatience is, I deserve the 
blessing : I had a right to expect that it would be bestowed, and 



626 PRAISE. 

it ought to have been bestowed ere this. It is evident that a 
man who feels that he deserves nothing, will never be impa- 
tient because he receives nothing ; but will say, I have nothmg 
to complain of, I receive as much as 1 deserve. Again, 
when a man wonders, or thinks it strange, that he does not re- 
ceive a blessing for which he has prayed, it shows that he relies 
on his own merits. The language of such feelings is, It is very 
strange that I, who have prayed so well, and so long, and had 
so much reason to expect a blessing do not receive it. Persons 
who feel truly humble, on the contrary, are surprised, not when 
blessings are withheld, but when they are bestowed. It ap- 
pears very strange and wonderful to them that God should be- 
stow any favors on creatures, so unworthy as themselves, or 
pay any regard to prayers so polluted as their own. This is 
the temper to which every person must be brought before God 
will answer his prayers. 

PRAISE. 

No one needs to be told, that the surest method to obtain new 
favors from an earthly benefactor, is to be thankful for those 
which he has already bestowed. It is the same with respect to 
our heavenly Benefactor. Praise and thanksgiving are even 
more prevalent than sacrifices or prayers. I have somewhere 
met with an account of a Christian, who was shipwrecked 
upon a desolate island, while all his companions perished in the 
waves. In this situation, he spent many days in fasting and 
prayer, that God would open a way for his deliverance; but his 
prayers received no answer. At length, musing on the goodness 
of God, in preserving him from the dangers of the sea, he re- 
solved to spend a day in thanksgiving and praise, for this and 
other favors. Before the conclusion of the day, a vessel arriv- 
ed, and restored him in safety to his country and friends. 
Another instance, equally in point, we find in the history of 
Solomon. At the dedication of the temple, many prayers were 
made, and many sacrifices offered, without any token of the 
divine acceptance. But when singers and players on instru- 
ments began as one to make one sound to be heard, in praising 
and thanking the Lord, saying. For he is good, for his mercy 
endureth forever : then the glory of the Lord descended and 
filled the temple. The reason why praise and thanksgiving are 



THE lord's supper. 627 

thus prevalent with God. is, that they, above all other duties, 
glorify Him. Whoso offereth praise, says he, glorifieth me ; 
and those who thus honor him, he will honor. 

, THE lord's supper. 

At the communion table we are in fact assembled to attend 
our Saviour's funeral, to look at his dead body, as we look at 
the countenance of a deceased friend before the coffin is closed. 
And if every wrong, every worldly feeling should die away, 
while we are contemplating the corpse of a friend, how much 
more ought this to be the case, when this friend is Christ ! I 
think it may be profitable sometimes to shut ourselves up m 
imagination, in our Saviour's tomb, and feel as if he were there 
buried with us. 

At the table of our Lord, each of us should recollect the per- 
sonal favors and marks of kindness, which he has himself re- 
ceived from Christ, or through his mediation. Our temporal 
mercies, our spiritual privileges should all pass in review. We 
should look back to the never to be forgotten time of love, when 
he found us poor, miserable, wretched, blind and naked ; dead 
in trespasses and sins, having no hope, and without God in the 
world. We should remember how he pitied us, awakened us, 
convinced us of sin, and drew us to himself by the cords of 
love. We should remember how often he has since healed our 
backslidings, pardoned our sins, borne with our unbelief, ingrat- 
itude, and slowness to learn ; supplied our wants, listened to 
our complaints, alleviated our sorrows, and revived our droop- 
ing spirits when we were ready to faint. In short, we must re- 
member all the way by which he has led us, these many years, 
through a wilderness of sins, sorrows, trials and temptations. 
Thus we shall be convinced that no sickly infant ever cost its 
mother a thousandth part of the care, and labor, and sutfering, 
which we have cost our Saviour ; and that no mother has ever 
shown her infant a thousandth part of the watchful tenderness, 
which our Saviour has shown to us. 

Was Christ a man of sorrovvs, and acquainted with grief? 
Then, Christians, we need not be surprised or offended, if we 
are often called to drink of the cup of sorrows ; if we find this 



528 RELATIVE DUTIES. 

world a vale of tears. This is one of the ways in which we 
must be conformed to our glorious Head. Indeed, his example 
has sanctifted grief, and almost rendered it pleasant to mourn. 
One would think that Christians could scarcely wish to go 
rejoicing through a world, which their Mastef passed through 
mourning. The paths in which we follow him are bedewed 
with his tears, and stained with his blood. It is true, that from 
the ground thus watered and fertilized, many rich flowers and 
fruits of paradise spring up to refresh us, in which we may, and 
ought to rejoice. But still our joy sould be softened and sancti- 
fied by godly sorrow. When we are partaking of the feast 
which his love has spread for us, we should never forget how 
dearly it was purchased. 

" There's not a gift his hand bestows 
But cost his heart a groan." 

The joy, the honor, the glory, through eternity, shall be ours ; 
but the sorrows, the sufferings, the agonies which purchased it, 
were all his own. 

RELATIVE DUTIES OF CHRISTIANS. 

Since all Christians are members of the same body, they 
ought not to envy each other. What could be more absurd 
than for the eye to envy the dexterity of the hand, or the feet 
to envy the perspicuity of the eye which directed their motions, 
and prevented them from running into danger? Still more 
absurd is it, if possible, for one Christian to envy the gifts, or 
graces, or usefulness of another, since the whole body, and he 
amongst the rest, enjoys the benefit of them. The fact is, 
whenever God bestows a favor on any Christian, he does, in 
effect, confer a favor on all ; just as when a man heals, or 
clothes one part of the body, he confers a benefit on the whole. 
Rejoice, and bless God, then. Christians, when he honors or 
favors any fellow Christian, for it is an act of kindness done to 
you, and will promote your present and eternal felicity. 

No Christian should be dissatisfied with his lot if poor and 
despised, or indulge pride if honored and prospered. Every 
one is in that place which infinite wisdom sees best for him, and 



LOVEONEANOTHER. 529 

the most highly favored Christians are, in many respects, de- 
pendent on the lowest. The eye cannot say to the hand, I have 
no need of you. If the whole body were an eye, where were 
the hearing? and if the whole body were hearing, where were 
the smelling ? But now God hath set the members in the body, 
every one as it hath pleased him, and it is the same in the great 
body of Christ. 

It is incumbent on every Christian to ascertain for what he is 
qualified, and what service he is called to perform, for the body 
of which he is a member. You can easily conceive what would 
be the consequence, in the human body, should the feet attempt 
to perform the work of the hands, or the hands, the office of the 
eye. Almost equally pernicious and ridiculous are the conse- 
quences occasioned by the self-ignorance, vanity, or false mod- 
esty of many Christians. They either do not know their place, 
or if they do, will not perform the duties of it. Hence some 
will attempt to perform the duty of social prayer, or of exhor- 
tation, or of expounding the Scriptures, whom God never design- 
ed, and therefore never qualified for that work, and who, of 
course, cannot perform it in an edifying, acceptable manner ; 
while others, whom he had thus qualified, for some cause or 
other, decline attempting it. Hence it is too often the case, that 
a church of Christ, instead of resembling a well-organized body 
in which the several members know and keep their place, and 
perform its duties, resembles a disorderly family, in which no 
one knoAvs his employment, and, of course, there is nothing but 
confusion and complaint. 

LOVE ONE ANOTHER. 

There are some Christians whom it is not very easy to love, 
on account of some disagreeable peculiarities about them ; but 
we shall love them hereafter, as we love our own souls, and 
they will love us, in a similar manner. Besides, our Saviour 
loves them, notwithstanding all these imperfections : and ought 
not our affections to follow his 7 If he were now visibly on 
earth, and we were permitted to stand by his side, if we saw 
him bend a look of love on any individual, would not our affec- 
tions immediately flow out towards that person, however disa- 
greeable or imperfect he might be ? Such a look our Savioiu* 
does bend on the most unlovely of his disciples. Let us, then, 
love them all, for his sake. ^j vol. l 



530 If\IVERSAL LAW OF BENEVOLENCE. 

'•' Not for ourselves, but others" — is the grand law of nature, 
inscribed by the hand of God on every part of creation. Not 
for itself, but others, does the sun dispense its beams; not for 
themselves, but others, do the clouds distil their showers; not 
for herself, but others, does the earth unlock her treasures ; not 
for themselves, but others, do the trees produce their fruits, or 
the flowers diffuse their fragrance and display their various 
hues. So, not for himself, but others, are the blessings of Heav- 
en bestowed on man ; and whenever, instead of diff"using them 
around, he devotes them exclusively to his own gratification, 
and shuts himself up in the dark and flinty caverns of selfish- 
ness, he transgresses the great law of creation — he cuts himself 
off" from the created universe, and its Author — he sacrilegiously 
converts to his own use the favors which were given him for 
the relief of others, and must be considered, not only as an 
unprofitable, but as a fraudulent servant, who has worse than 
wasted his Lord's money. He, who thus lives only to himself, 
and consumes the bounty of Heaven upon his lusts, or conse- 
crates it to the demon of avarice, is a barren rock in a fertile 
plain ; he is a thorny bramble in a fruitful vineyard ; he is the 
grave of God's blessings; he is the very Arabia Deserta of the 
moral world. And if he is highly exalted in wealth or power, 
he stands, inaccessible and strong, hke an insulated towering 
cliff", which exhibits only a cold and cheerless prospect, inter- 
cepts the genial beams of the sun, chills the vales below with 
its gloomy shade, adds fresh keenness to the freezing blast, and 
tempts down the lightnings of angry heaven. How different 
this from the gently-rising hill, clothed to its summit with 
fruits and flowers, which attracts and receives the dews of heav- 
en, and retaining only sufficient to supply its numerous off- 
spring, sends the remainder in a thousand streams to bless the 
vales which lie at its feet ! 

DUTIES TO THE HEATHEN. 

It is a fact that vigorous and persevering exertions in favor of 
religion abroad, naturally excite, and are inseparably connected 
with similar and successful exertions at home. Witness the ex- 
ample of Great Britain. While she was reaching the full cup 
of life and salvation to other countries, the drops which fell from 
it refreshed and fertilized her own. Witness the present reli- 



RELIGIOUS CONSISTENCY. 631 

gious situation of our own country. Never, in the same space 
of time, was so much done for its amelioration ; never were the 
Scriptures so generally diffused among us; never were our do- 
mestic missions in so prosperous a state ; never were their en- 
deavors crowned with so much success, as since we began to 
send Bibles and missionaries to the heathen. God has been 
pouring out spiritual blessings upon our churches, our towns, 
our villages and our schools: and thus, for every missionary 
whom we have sent abroad, he has given us ten to labor at 
home. If we wish to obtain greater blessings of a similar kind, 
we must seek them in a similar way. If vice and infidelity are 
to be finally conquered, and banished from our country, the bat- 
tle must be fought, and the victory won, on the plains of India. 

True charity receives her instructions, as well as her exis- 
tence, from faith in God's word ; and when faith points to hu- 
man beings in danger, charity, without delaying to propose ques- 
tions, hastens to their relief 

Our houses are built, our vineyards are planted, around the 
base of a volcano. They may be fair and flourishing to-day — 
to-morrow, ashes may be all that remains. Open your hands 
wide, then, while they contain any blessings to bestow; for of 
that which you give, you can never be deprived. 

SEE THAT YE ABOUND IN THIS GRACE ALSO, 

Unless we strenuously aim at universal holiness, we can have 
no satisfactory evidence, that we are the servants of Christ. A 
servant of Christ is one that obeys Christ as his master, and 
makes Christ's revealed word the rule of his conduct. No man^ 
then, can have any evidence that he is a servant of Christ any 
further than he obeys the will of Christ. And no man can have 
any evidence that he obeys the will of Christ in one particular, 
unless he sincerely and strenuously aims to obey in every par- 
ticular — for the will of Christ is one. 

In consequence of their natural constitution, of the circum- 
stances in which they are placed, or of the absence of tempta- 
tion, most Christians find it comparatively easy to avoid somo 
sins, to be exemplary in the performance of some duties, and to 



632 RELIGIOUS CONSISTENCY. 

cultivate some branches of the Christian temper with success. 
One man, for instance, enjoys much leisure and has a taste for 
study; hence the acquisition of religious knowledge becomes 
easy to him. Another is blessed with a mild and amiable dis- 
position, and of course can regulate his temper without much 
difficulty. A third is constitutionally liberal, and can therefore 
contribute readily to religious and charitable objects. A fourth 
is quiet and retiring, and is for this reason little tempted to pride, 
ambition, or discontent. A fifth is naturally bold and ardent. 
Of course, he can easily overcome indolence and the fear of man. 
In a word, there are a very few Christians, who, for these and 
other similar reasons, do not in some respects excel. But the 
evil is that they are prone, though perhaps without being sensi- 
ble of it, to attach an undue importance to that grace or duty 
in which they excel, to make the whole of religion to consist in 
it, and to neglect other things of equal importance, the perfor- 
mance of which they would find more difficult. Nay, more; 
they secretly regard the eminence which they have attained in 
some respects, as an excuse for great deficiencies in others; and 
endeavor to atone for a neglect of self-denying duties, by attend- 
ing with peculiar zeal to those duties which are more easy. 

One man, for instance, is lukewarm in his afifections, formal 
in his devotions, and makes little progress in subduing his sinful 
propensities. But he comforts himself with the hope that his 
knowledge of religious truth is increasing. Another, who neg- 
lects to improve opportunities for acquiring religious knowledge, 
derives consolation from the warmth of his zeal, and the liveli- 
ness of his affections. One person is by no means disposed to 
contribute liberally for the promotion of Christ's cause and the 
relief of the poor; but he hopes to atone for his deficiency in 
this respect, by the frequency and fervency of his prayers. 
Another neglects prayer, meditation and communion with God, 
but he quiets himself by pleading the pressure of worldly busi- 
ness, and by liberal contributions for religious and charitable 
purposes. Thus, as there are few Christians who do not excel 
in some respects, there are few who are not, in some respects, 
exceedingly deficient. Small indeed is the number of those 
who sedulously strive to stand perfect and complete in all the 
will of God. 



CHRIST GLORIFIED. 533 

Nothing is more common than to meet with Christians who 
in many respects are eminently and exemplarily pious, but who, 
by some sinful imprudence or defect, render their characters vul- 
nerable, destroy all the good effects of their example, and dis- 
honor instead of adorning religion. They resemble a beauti- 
ful and well-proportioned body, which has been disfigured by a 
wound, or which has lost a Hmb, or some member of which is 
disproportionably large. While in some respects they are giants, 
in others they are mere dwarfs. Hence not only their reputa- 
tion, but their influence, their comfort, their usefulness are im- 
paired, and they adorn religion less than many others who are in 
many respects greatly their inferiors, but who are more uniform 
and consistent in their conduct. 

Christ commands us, whether we eat or drink, or whatever 
we do, to do all to the glory of God. Perhaps some will ask, 
How is this possible? We cannot be always thinking of God; 
we must attend to our business, provide for our own wants and 
those of our famiUes. True — but look at a man about to send 
a ship to a foreign port. As he purchases his cargo, and makes 
the requisite preparations, he considers what articles are most 
suitable for the market; what provisions most necessary for the 
voyage; how the ship is to be rigged and manned; in short, all 
his plans are laid with reference to the end of the voyage. So 
the Christian, though not always thinking of heaven, should 
take care that all his business and all his pleasures may forward 
his journey thither, and promote his great object of preparation 
for that abode of blessedness. 

CHRIST GLORIFIED IN HIS CHURCH. 

When we look at the sun, we only perceive that it is a bright 
and glorious luminary. But when we behold the earth ia 
spring, in summer or autumn, clothed with luxuriant vegetation, 
adorned with flowers, and enlivened by myriads of sportive, 
happy beings ; when we compare this state of things with the 
rigors, the frost, the barrenness of winter, recollect that the sun 
is, instrumentally, the cause of this mighty difference, and re- 
flect how gloomy and desolate our world would be, if wholly 
deprived of its beams; we have far more clear and enlarged 
conceptions of the value and excellence of this luminary. The 



534 DIRECTIONS TO CHRISTIANS. 

sun is then, if I may so express it, glorified in the earth, and 
admired in all the productions and beneficial effects which result 
from his influence. In a similar manner will Christ, the Sun of 
righteousness, be glorified and admired in his people. It will 
then be clearly seen how much mercy was necessary to pardon 
their sins, how much grace was required to sanctify, preserve 
and glorify them; how much wisdom, goodness and power were 
displayed in devising and executing the wondrous plan of their 
redemption. They will not, therefore, be admired, but Christ 
will be seen and admired in them. The assembled universe will 
be ready to exclaim, with one voice, How infinitely powerful, 
wise, and good must he be, who could transform sinful, guilty 
worms of the dust, into beings so perfectly glorious and lovely! 

MISCELLANEOUS DIRECTIONS TO CHRISTIANS. 

God commands all men to repent. Christians have enough 
to repent of daily; and if they are not in a penitent frame, they 
justify impenitent sinners. 

Let your great Physician heal you in his own way. Only 
follow his directions and take the medicine which he prescribes, 
and then quietly leave the result with him. 

What God calls a man to do, he will carry him through. I 
would undertake to govern half a dozen worlds, if God called 
me to do it ; but I would not undertake to govern half a dozen 
sheep unless God called me to it. 

To a person who has been frustrated in a benevolent design : 
— **I congratulate you, and anticipate your eventual success. I 
do not recollect ever to have succeeded in any thing of importance, 
in which I did not meet with some rebuflf, at the commence- 
ment. " 

THE WAY TO CURE A COVETOUS SPIRIT. 

Suppose you were to pass over a pit which had no bottom; 
would you endeavor to fill it up , or bridge it over? 

Anticipated sorrows are harder to bear than real ones, because 
Christ does not support us under them. In every slough wo 



DIRECTIONS TO CHRISTIANS. 535 

may see the footsteps of Christ's flock who have gone before us. 

Cliristian friends, when separated from each other's society, 
may derive comfort from the reflection, that God is able to ex- 
tend a hand to two of his children at the same time, however 
remote may be their places of habitation. 

Every thing we do or say should be immediately tried by a 
little court within our own breasts. Our motives should be ex- 
amined, and a decision made on the spot; 

Our best rule is, to give God the same place in our hearts, 
that he holds in the universe. We must make him all in all. 
We should act as if there were no beings in the universe but 
God and ourselves. 

As the eye which has gazed at the sun, cannot immediately dis- 
cern any other object ; as the man who has been accustomed to 
behold the ocean, turns with contempt from a stagnant pool, so 
the mind which has contemplated eternity, overlooks and des- 
pises the things of time. 

If at any time you have enlargement in prayer and are fa- 
vored with access to the throne of grace, do not go away satis- 
fied and self-complacent. Pride says, *'I have done very well 
now; God will accept this." You perhaps discover that this is 
the suggestion of pride ; it then takes a new turn. Another 
would not have discovered it to be pride; I must be very humble 
to see it thus. Thus if you continue the search, you will find 
pride, like the different coats of an onion, lurking one beneath 
another to the very centre. 

Praise Christ for every thing. He is the foundation of every 
good thought, desire and affection. It should be our aim to draw 
all we can from him by prayer, and return him all we can by 
praise. 

O death! where is THY STING? 

The power of death, the last enemy, is destroyed, as it respects 
all who believe in Christ. Instead of being the jailer of hell 



536 TO MINISTERS. 

and tho grave, he is now, as it respects Christ's people, the porter 
of paradise. All he can now do is to cause them to sleep in Je- 
sus, release their immortal spirits from the fetters which bind 
them to earth, and depositc their weary bodies in the tomb, as 
a place of rest^ till Christ comes at the last day, to raise them 
incorruptible, glorious and immortal ; and reunite them to their 
souls in a state of perfect, never-ending felicity. 

TO THE MINISTERS OF CHRIST. 

Every benevolent person is gratified by being made the bear- 
er of pleasing intelligence. The messenger, who is commissioned 
to open the prison doors of an insolvent debtor, or pardoned 
criminal, and restore him to the embraces of his family ; the of- 
ficer, who is sent by his commander in chief to carry home 
tidings of an important victory; and still more the ambassador, 
who is appointed to proclaim pardon and peace, in his sovereign's 
name, to conquered rebels; thinks himself, and is thought by 
others, to have received no common favor. Should God put 
into your hands the wonder-working rod of Moses ; should he 
commission and enable you to work miracles of beneficence, to 
enrich the poor, to comfort the miserable, to restore sight to the 
blind, hearing to the deaf, health to the diseased, and life to the 
dead ; you would esteem it a favor and honor, incomparably 
greater than earthly monarchs can bestow. But in committing 
the gospel to your care, God has conferred on you honors and 
favors, compared with which, even the power of working mira- 
cles is a trifle. He has put into your hands the cross of Christ, 
an instrument of far greater eflicacy than the rod of Moses 
He has sent you to proclaim the most joyful tidings that heaven 
can desire, or that earth can hear. He has sent you to preach 
deliverance to captives, the recovery of sight to the blind, the 
balm of Gilead and the great Physician to the spiritually wound- 
ed and diseased, salvation to the self-destroyed, and everlasting 
life to the dead. In a word, he commissions and enables them 
to work miracles, not upon the bodies, but upon the souls of men; 
miracles not merely of power, but of grace and mercy ; miracles, 
to perform which, an angel would think himself highly honored, 
in being sent down from heaven; miracles from the performance 
of which it is difiicult to say whether greater glory redounds to 
God, or greater happiness to man. Well then may every min- 



HEAVEN. 637 

ister of Christ exclaim with Paul, I thank my God for that he 
counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry. 

Though, in committing the gospel to their trust, God has 
conferred on ministers the greatest honor and favor which can 
be given to mortals, yet, like all other favors, it brings with it 
a great increase of responsibility. Remember that the more 
highly any one is exalted, in this respect, the more difficult it 
becomes to stand,- and the more dangerous it is to fall. He who 
falls from a pulpit seldom stops short of the lowest abyss in 
hell. 

HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN. 

Only to be permitted to contemplate such a being as Jehovah, 
to see goodness, holiness, justice, mercy, long-suffering and 
sovereignty personified and condensed; to see them united with 
eternity, infinite power, unerring wisdom, omnipresence and all 
sufficiency; to see all these natural and moral perfections indis- 
sohibly united and blended in sweet harmony in a pure, spiritual 
being, and that being placed on the throne of the universe ; — I say 
to see this would be happiness enough to fill the mind of any 
creature in existence. But in addition to this, to have this inef- 
fable being for our God, our portion, our all ; to be permitted 
to say. This God is our God forever and ever ; to have his re- 
splendent countenance smile upon us ; to be encircled in his 
everlasting arms of power, and faithfulness, and love, to hear 
his voice saying to us, I am yours, and you are mine ; nothing 
shall ever pluck you from my hands, or separate you from my 
love, but you shall be with me where I am, behold my glory, 
and live to reign with me forever and ever ; this is too much ; 
it is honor, it is glory, it is happiness too overwhelming, too 
transporting for mortal minds to conceive, or for mortal frames 
to support ; and it is perhaps well for us that here we know but 
in part, and that it doth not yet appear what we shall be. O 
then, in all circumstances, under all inward and outward afiiic- 
tions, let God's Israel rejoice in their Creator, let the children of 
Zion be joyful in their King. 

You have, doubtless, often observed that when your minds 
have been intently and pleasingly occupied, you have become 
almost unconscious of the flight of time ; mmutes and hours 

VOL. I. 68 



538 HEAVEN. 

have flown away, with, apparently, unusual swiftness, and the 
setting or rising sun has surprised you, long before you expected 
its approach. But in heaven, the saints will be entirely lost 
and swallowed up in God ; and their minds will be so com- 
pletely absorbed in the contemplation of his ineffable, infinite, 
imcreated, glories, that they will be totally unconscious how 
time, or, rather, how eternity passes ; and not only years, but 
millions of ages, such as we call ages, will be flown ere they 
are aware. Thus, a thousand years will seem to them but as 
one day, and yet so great, so ecstatic will be their happiness, 
that one day will be as a thousand years. And as there will be 
nothing to interrupt them, no bodily wants to call olT their 
attention, no weariness to compel them to rest, no vicissitude of 
seasons or of day and night to disturb their contemplations ; it 
is more than possible that innumerable ages may pass away, 
before they think of asking how long they have been in heaven, 
or even before they are conscious that a single hour has elapsed. 

How often. Christians, have your hearts been made to burn 
with love, and gratitude, and admiration, and joy, while Christ 
has opened to you the Scriptures, and caused you to know a 
little of that love which passeth knowledge ! How often has 
one transient glimpse of the light of God's countenance turned 
your night into day, banished your sorrows, supported you under 
heavy afflictions, and caused you to rejoice with joy unspeaka- 
ble and full of glory ! Oh, then, what must it be to escape 
forever from error, and ignorance, and darkness, and sin, into 
the region of bright, unclouded, eternal day ; to see your God 
and Redeemer, face to face ; continually to contemplate, with 
immortal strength, glories so dazzhngly bright, that one mo- 
ment's view of them would now, like a stream of lightning, 
turn your frail bodies into dust ; to see the eternal volume of the 
divine counsels, the mighty map of the divine mind ; unfolded 
to your eager, piercing gaze; to explore the heights and depths, 
the lengths and breadths of the Redeemer's love, and still to 
see new wonders, glories and beauties pouring upon your minds, 
in constant, endless succession, calling forth new songs of 
praise; — songs in which you will unite, not, as now, with mor- 
tal companions and mortal voices, but with the innumerable 
choir of angels, with the countless myriads of the redeemed, all 



A JEWEL FOR YOUR OWN. 539 

shouting with a voice like the voice of many waters, Alleluia, 
for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth ! 

The following anecdotes are extracted from the Religious 
Magazine. 

One day, he went to visit a mother, who was disconsolate from 
the loss of a child. He said to her as follows : — 

" Suppose, now, some one was making a beautiful crown for 
you to wear ; and you knew it was for you, and that you were 
to receive it and w^ear it as soon as it should be done. Now, if 
the maker of it were to come, and, in order to make the crown 
more beautiful and splendid, were to take some of your jewels, 
to put into it, — should you be sorrowful and unhappy, because 
they were taken away for a little while, when you knew they 
were gone to make up your crown 7" 

The mother said, that no one could conceive of the relief, the 
soothing, quieting influence which this comparison had on her 
mind. 

On another occasion he went to see a sick person, who was 
very much troubled, because she could not keep her mind all the 
time fixed upon Christ, on account of the distracting influences 
of her sufferings, and the various objects and occurrences of the 
sick room, which constantly called ofl" her attention. She was 
afraid she did not love her Saviour, as she found it so diflicult 
to fix her mind upon him. Dr. Payson said, — 

*• Suppose you were to see a little sick child, lying in its 
mother's lap, with its faculties impaired by its sufferings, so thai 
it was, generally, in a troubled sleep ; but now and then it just 
opens its eyes a little, and gets a glimpse of its mother's face, 
so as to be recalled to the recollection that it is in its mother's 
arms ; and suppose that always, at such a time, it should smile 
faintly with evident pleasure to find where it was, — should you 
doubt whether that child loved its mother or not?" 

The poor sufferer's doubts and despondency were gone in a 
moment. 

A gentleman, who saw and conversed with Dr. Payson in 
Boston, when he visited this city, towards the latter part of his 
life, was led, by his preaching and conversation, to a considera- 



640 THE WOUNDED DOVE. 

ble degree of serious concern for his soul. His wife was still in 
a great measure indifferent to the subject. One day, meeting 
her in company, he said to her, — 

" Madam, I think your husband is looking upwards, — making 
some eftbrt to rise above the world, toward God and heaven. 
You must not let him try alone. Whenever I see the husband 
strugghng alone in such efforts, it makes me think of a dove, 
endeavoring to fly upwards, while it has one broken wing. It 
leaps and flutters, and perhaps raises itself a little way, and 
then it becomes wearied, and drops back again to the groimd. 
If both wings co-operate, then it mounts easily." 



1 



i 



CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE. 



THE GRATEFUL CHRISTIAN REHEARSING WHAT GOD 
HATH DONE FOR HIS SOUL. 



Come and hear, aU ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done 
for my soul — Psalm lxvi. 16. 



On few of our race has the great Giver of every good gift, 
bestowed more temporal blessings than on David. He gave 
him, while yet a stripling, courage to attack, and strength to 
subdue, the lion and the bear ; he rendered him victorious over 
the giant of Gath ; he took him from the sheep-fold to be king 
over Israel, in his own time placed him on the throne, and 
crowned his reign with almost unexampled prosperity. A per- 
son destitute of religion, on hearing this highly favored monarch 
express a determination to declare what God had done for him, 
would naturally, therefore, have expected to hear him mention 
those temporal blessings as the principal favors for which he 
was indebted to the bounty of heaven. But such an expecta- 
tion would have been disappointed. So far from mentioning 
these things as his greatest blessings, David does not even men- 
tion them at all. Not that he was insensible to these favors. 
Not that he did not consider them as great and deserving his 
thanksgivings. But in comparison with his spiritual blessings, 
in comparison with what God had done for his soul, he regarded 
them, and justly regarded them as nothing. Instead, therefore, 
of calling men to hear of his deliverance from the lion, the bear, 



642 WHATGODHATH 

the Philistine, the tyrant; and his exaltation to the throne of 
Israel, he says, Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will 
declare what he hath done for my soul. 

My hearers, every real Christian, when he feels like a Chris- 
tian, will wish to make the language of this passage his own. 
However great, however numerous may be the temporal bles- 
sings which he has received, he will consider them as nothing 
in comparison with what God has done for his soul. God has 
done substantially the same things for the soul of every Christian 
which he did for the soul of David ; and every Christian will 
wish to declare what God has done to those that fear Him. To 
illustrate this remark is my present design. With this view, 1 
shall attempt to answer the three following questions : 

I. What has God done for the soul of every Christian ? 

n. Why does the Christian wish to declare what God has 
done for his soul 7 

HI. Why does he wish to make this declaration to those only 
who fear God 7 

I. What has God done for the soul of every Christian 7 
Before I answer this question, it may be proper to remind you 
that the Christian's God has revealed himself as Father, Son, 
and Holy Ghost. Each of this Divine Three has done many 
things for his soul, and whatever is done by either of them is 
done by God. An answer to the question before us, must, 
therefore, include every thing which has been done for the soul, 
either by the Father, the Son, or the Holy Spirit. The answer 
I shall give in the name of a Christian, or in the language 
which he might be supposed to adopt, while making such a 
declaration as that in our text. 

Come then, all ye that fear God ; see a Christian, meditating 
in deep and silent thought on the spiritual blessings which God 
has bestowed on him ; see the expression of self-abasement, 
penitence, faith, hope, love, wonder, admiration and gratitude, 
which his countenance assumes, till at length, unable any long- 
er to contain or repress his emotions, he breaks forth in a hum- 
ble, affectionate, thankful declaration of what God has done for 
his soul. 

Before my soul began to exist, he says, God began to provide 
for its salvation. He loved it with an everlasting love; he 
chose it to be a vessel of mercy, in which he might shew forth 



DONE FOR THE SOUL. 543 

the riches of his glory, chose it in Christ Jesus before the world 
began. All that he has done for me was done according to an 
eternal purpose, which he purposed in himself. Before I knew 
that I needed a Saviour, before I existed, before the foundations 
of the world were laid, he provided for me a Saviour, in the 
person of his Son, and gave me to that Saviour in the covenant 
of redemption, as a part of his promised reward. When in his 
own appointed time he called me into being, he who fixes the 
bounds of every human habitation, placed me in a part of the 
world where he knew I should have the opportunity to acquire 
a knowledge of himself, and to hear the gospel of salvation. 
He watched over my soul during the helpless years of infancy, 
the inexperienced season of childhood, and the dangerous peri- 
od of youth ; and did not sulfer death to bear it away to perdi- 
tion in an unprepared state. 

While I lived without him in the world, scarcely sensible that 
I had a soul to lose, his guardian care shielded me from a thou- 
sand dangers which would have proved fatal ; by the secret 
influence of his restraining grace, he prevented me from yield- 
ing to many temptations, and held me back from many sins, 
into which my own wicked heart, aided by the great deceiver, 
would have otherwise plunged me; he guided and led me along 
by an unseen hand, when I knew him not, and by his provi- 
dence ordered all my concerns in such a way as to bring me to 
the place where I should find salvation. Then, when I lay dead 
in trespasses and sins ; when I was a child of wrath, justly 
doomed to everlasting burnings ; when I was daily, by new 
sins, increasing my guilt and provoking him to cast me off for- 
eA'er ; when the enemy of God and man kept my heart as his 
castle, like a strong man armed ; when self-ignorance, unbelief, 
hardness of heart and opposition to the truth combined to chain 
me down in a hopeless state, and when I loved my chains too 
well to make any struggle for liberty ; — even then he began to 
employ means to effect my deliverance. His Spirit came to 
awaken me from my lethargic state ; truths which I had a thou- 
sand times heard in vain, were made to affect me, my con- 
science was awakened to reprove me, and I was led to inquire, 
W^hat shall I do to be saved 7 

But the answer which inspiration gives to this inquiry, my 
darkened mind did not understand, and my proud, wicked heart 



544 WHAT COD HATH 

would not believe. In various ways I resisted the blessed Guide 
who would have led me to a Saviour's feet. When Christ 
knocked at the door of my heart, I refused him admission ; I 
sought salvation by the works of the law, by my own merits ; 
I was unwiUing to repent, forsake sin and deny myself; and 
eagerly sought destruction, when, as I fondly imagined, 1 was 
seeking salvation. But my merciful and unchangeable God 
would not give me up, as I so richly deserved. He caused light 
to shine into my benighted mind. He led me to see the justice 
of my condemnation, and my inability to escape from it. He 
made the way of salvation appear plain to me. He subdued 
my proud heart and stubborn will, reconciled me to himself, 
gave me repentance, drew me with cords of love to a Saviour's 
feet, broke my chains, delivered me from my tyrants, freely 
forgave my numberless offences, put his law of love in my 
heart, enstamped upon me his image, and came to dwell in my 
before disconsolate, polluted breast. He adopted me as his 
child, and constituted me an heir of God and a joint heir with 
Christ, of the heavenly inheritance. He filled me with joy and 
peace in believing, and taught me to abound in hope through 
the power of the Holy Ghost. Thus, when I was slumbering 
on the verge of hell, he roused me ; when I was dead in sins, he 
raised me to life. When I was a slave, he set me free ; when I 
was a child of disobedience, he made me a child of God ; when 
I was an heir of perdition, he made me an heir of glory ; when 
my heart was like a cage of unclean birds, he transformed it 
into the temple of the Holy Ghost. Ever since that time he has 
been watching over me, and carrying on his work of grace in 
my heart. He has taught and assisted me to pray, and has 
answered my prayers. He has corrected my errors and mis- 
takes ; he has assisted me in subduing my sins and in resisting 
temptation ; he has borne with my numberless infirmities : he 
has granted me ten thousand pardons ; he has healed my fre- 
quent back slidings ; he has strengthened me when weak, he 
has encouraged me when desponding, he has healed my soul 
when sick and wounded, he has consoled me when afliicted, he 
has wrought in me to will and to do of his own good pleasure ; 
he has often refreshed me by his ordinances, and has sometimes 
caused me to rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. 
No day, no hour has passed in which he did not do somethu)g 
for my soul. 



DONE FOR THE SOUL. 545 

And as if all this were not enough, he has engaged to do, and 
will do still more. He will strengthen me, yea he will help me, 
yea he will uphold me by the right hand of his righteousness. 
He will keep me by his power through faith unto salvation. 
He will be with me and comfort me when I am called to pass 
through the dark valley of the shadow of death, and will 
receive my disembodied and perfected spirit to be with himself 
till the resurrection. He will then bring me with him when he 
comes to judgment. He will raise my body immortal, incorrupt- 
ible and glorious, like his own ; he will pronounce me blessed, 
and in the presence of the assembled universe, call me to inherit 
the kingdom prepared for me from the foundation of the world. 
To the possession of this kingdom I shall again ascend with 
him to heaven, and receive the crown and the throne which he 
has promised to them that overcome. Then, in the enjoyment 
of perfect holiness, glory and felicity, I shall be forever with 
the Lord. 

All this he has, in effect, done for me already, since he has 
promised it, and with him, promise and performance are the 
same. For my security he has given me his eternal purpose 
and his solemn oath ; two immutable things in which it is im- 
possible for him to lie. Who, then, shall lay any thing to my 
charge 7 It is God that justifieth. Who is he that shall con- 
demn me? It is Christ that died, yea, rather that is risen 
again, who also maketh intercession for me. And what shall 
separate me from the love of Christ ? Shall persecution, or 
distress, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword ? Nay, in 
all these things I am more than a conqueror through him that 
loved me ; and I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor 
angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor the world, nor height, 
nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate me 
from the love of God, which is in Christ .Tesus my Lord. 

Such is the answer which every real Christian may give to 
the question. What has God done for my soul 1 I do not, how- 
ever, assert that all real Christians will venture to give this 
answer. Many of them may, and do doubt whether they are 
real Christians ; whether they are not deceived by a false con- 
version. Hence the greater part would perhaps venture no far- 
ther than to say, I hope God has done these things for my soul. 
Their doubts do not, however, if they are Christians, affect their 

VOL. L 69 



546 WHAT GOD HATH 

salvation. It is certain, whether they know it or not. that God 
has done, or Avill do every thing for their souls which has now 
been mentioned; for he knows, if they do not, that they are 
Christians, and he will treat them accordingly. 

II. The second question which it was proposed to answer, is, 
Why does the Christian, when he feels like a Christian, wish to 
declare what God hath done for his soul ? This question has 
been, in part, at least, already answered. While stating what 
God has done, we have indirectly assigned a sufficient reason 
wliy Christians should wish to declare what he has done ; for 
who can receive favors so great, so overwhelming, and not wish 
to speak of them ? If we have seen or met with any thing 
wonderful, we naturally wish to speak of it. That God should 
do such things for a sinful soul is beyond measure wonderful. 
It is by far the most wonderful of all his works. He himself 
represents it as such. Well then may every one for whom he 
has done such wonders of grace and mercy, wish to declare it. 

We find that those whom our Saviour miraculously cured 
when he was on earth, loudly proclaimed and published every 
where how great things God had done for them. They could 
not keep silence, even when he charged them to do it. His 
power, his goodness, and the benefits he had bestowed on them 
appeared so great, so astonishing, that they could not hold their 
peace. Much more, then, may Christians whose spiritual mala- 
dies have been healed, to whom God has made far greater and 
more astonishing displays of his power and grace, feel unable to 
conceal Avhat God has done for their souls. They must speak 
of them for the same reason that saints and angels in heaven 
sing God's praises, because they are so full that they cannot 
contain themselves. They must give vent to their feelings. 
Gratitude constrains them to speak. It is a relief to their burst- 
ing hearts, burdened and overwhelmed with the weight of ines- 
timable favors, to show what great things God has done for 
them, and how he has had mercy on them. 

Regard for God's glory also prompts the Christian to speak. 
He feels that what God has done for him is a most glorious 
work ; that it involves a most glorious display of the divine 
perfections. He wishes therefore to proclaim it, that men may 
know how wonderfully merciful and gracious God is. Thus 
the Samaritan leper, when cleansed from his leprosy, turned 
back, and, with a loud voice, glorified God. 



DONE FOR THE SOUL. 547 

The Christian, farther, wishes to declare what God has done 
for his soul, in order that others may assist him in praising the 
bountiful Benefactor. His own unassisted voice is not loud 
enough. His own praises seem altogether insufficient. He 
would have his praises and thanksgivings heard through the 
world. He would have the whole human family, were it pos- 
sible, join with him in one universal chorus of praise to God ; 
and while he tells what God has done for his soul, his desires 
are expressed in the words of the Psalmist, O come, magnify 
the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together. Such are 
some of the reasons why every Christian wishes to declare what 
God has done for his soul. 

HI. Why does he wish to make this declaration to those only 
v/ho fear God. He does so, 

First, Because they alone can understand such a declaration. 
He might indeed speak to others of temporal favors, or what God 
has done for his body; but should he begin to declare what God 
had done for his soul, his language would be scarcely intelligi- 
ble, and they would regard him as an enthusiast or a madman. 
Conviction, conversion, the pardon of sin, adoption into God's 
family, communion with God, and a title to heaven, are expres- 
sions which convey almost no meaning to the mind of an irre- 
ligious man. Agreeably, we are told that to such the gospel is 
foolishness, and that they receive not the things of the spirit of 
God, neither can they know them because they are spiritually 
discerned. Hence the apostle, after exclaiming, Behold what 
manner of love the Father hath bestowed on us, that we should 
be called the sons of God, adds; The world knoweth us not, 
that is knows nothing of the blessings and privileges which we 
enjoy, because it knew him not Paul, also, speaking in the 
name of Christians, says, now we have received not the Spirit 
of the world, but the spirit of God; that we may know the 
things that are freely given us of God; thus plainly intimat- 
ing that those only who have been taught by the Holy Ghost, 
know or understand the spiritual blessings which God bestows 
on his people. And in the same chapter he adds. He that is 
spiritual discerneth all things, but he himself is discerned of no 
man ; that is, no man discerns or knows what he has received 
and what he enjoys. 



548 WHAT GOD HATH 

The Christian wishes to make this declaration to those only 
who fear God, in the second place, because they alone will re- 
ally believe him. As those who have no fear of God, do not un- 
derstand what blessings he has bestowed on his people, so neith- 
er do they believe that such blessings are ever bestowed. Hence, 
should they hear a Christian declaring what God has done for 
him, they would either despise him as a proud boaster, or pity 
him as a weak, deluded fanatic, whose vain fancies had bewil- 
dered him into a fool's paradise. Accordingly, the author of the 
book of Ecclesiasticus represents the wicked as ridiculing the 
righteous, for calling themselves the children of the Lord, and 
making their boast that God is their father. 

In the third place, the Christian wishes to make this declara- 
tion to those only who fear God, because they only will listen 
Avith interest, or join with him in praising his Benefactor. Men 
destitute of godly fear, would listen to an idle tale or empty dream 
with more interest than to his relation; and even did they 
understand and believe it, they would not praise God on his ac- 
count, but would rather murmur at God as partial, because he 
had not conferred similarblessings on them also. But not so 
they that fear God. These will listen with interest, for they love 
to hear of God's wondrous works of mercy and grace. They 
will join with him in his joyful and grateful expressions of praise, 
for they know in some measure the dangers from which he has 
been rescued, and the number, worth, and magnitude of the 
blessings which he has received. They know that God has in- 
deed done great things for the soul of every one who is saved; 
they can, like the angels, rejoice over every sinner that repenteth; 
nay more; they can sympathize in his joy, for they have them- 
selves been in the same situation, and tasted of the same deliv- 
erance. Hence, while the Christian exclaims. The Lord hath 
done great things for my soul, whereof I am glad; they can re- 
spond, yes, he has done great things for you, and for us also, 
and blessed be his name. 

Thus have been answered the three questions suggested by 
the text. It remains only to make some improvement of the 
subject. 

To those of us who have publicly professed ourselves the dis- 
ciples of Christ, this subject is peculiarly interesting. By mak- 
ing such a profession, we expressed a persuasion, or at least a 



DONE FOR THE SOUL. 549 

prevailing hope, that we were Christians; and of course that 
God either had done, or in due time would do for us, every thing 
which has now been mentioned. I have a right, then, my pro- 
fessing hearers, to address you as persons who, at least, hope 
that God has done these things for your souls. Permit me then 
to ask you, in view of this subject, 

1. Whether the returns which God requires of you in the 
gospel, are not most reasonable? He there tells you that you 
are not your own, that you are bought with a price, and requires 
you, therefore, to glorify him in your bodies and spirits which 
are his; — to feel that you are his property, to act as his servants, 
to consecrate yourselves and all that you possess to him. Now, 
is not this requisition most reasonable ? Has he not a right to 
expect that we should comply with it? Even if he had not 
created us, if he were not our rightful sovereign, if he had no 
rights but those of a benefactor, no claims but those which are 
founded on what he has done for our souls, might he not still 
justly expect from us all that he requires, all that we can render? 
What, O what can be too valuable to give to him who gave his 
own Son to die for us? What, O what can be too difficult to 
do, or too painful to suffer, for him who has done and suffered 
so much for us? What returns may not he justly expect who, 
at an expense so infinite, redeemed our immortal souls from eter- 
nal death, and bestowed on them everlasting life? Surely we 
must forget what God has done for us, if we can think his re- 
quisitions hard or unreasonable; if we ever hesitate to perform 
any duty, or to make any sacrifice which he requires. And 
have any of you, my professing friends, been guilty of this for- 
getfulness? Have you hesitated to make the returns, to per- 
form the duties, to offer the sacrifices which your Benefactor 
requires. Has it ceased to be your habitual language. Bless the 
Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits ? If so, you 
may, 

2. Learn from this subject how inexcusable is your ingrati- 
tude, how much reason you have for sorrow, shame and self- 
abasement. In order to this, review once more what God has 
done for you, and contrast it with your returns to him. Have 
you not, in multiplied instances, rewarded him evil for good? 
Do you not discover in your past conduct, innumerable proofs 
of unkindness, unfaithfulness and ingratitude? And 0, how 



660 WHAT GOD HATH 

black, how base is ingratitude in us ! Of all beings that exist 
on earth or in heaven, the Christian has by far the most cause 
to be grateful even more than the blessed angels themselves. Of 
course, ingratitude in a Christian is more criminal and hateful 
than it would be in any other being. O then, what deep, what 
bitter repentance ought we to feel ! And can you avoid fcehug 
it ? Can any Christian be otherwise than broken-hearted, when 
he contemplates God as his Father, Benefactor, and Redeemer, 
loving him with an everlasting love, promoting his happiness 
with unceasing care, and doing so much, so very much for his 
salvation? Can any Christian recollect without a pang, that he 
has neglected, disobeyed and grieved his Father, his Sovereign, 
his Benefactor, through fear of offending a fellow- worm, or to 
gratify some base lust, or to avoid some trifling evil, or to ob- 
tain some imaginary good 7 O, it may well wring our hearts 
with anguish to reflect what weak temptations, what insignifi- 
cant trifles have led us to sin; have had more weight with us 
than the wishes, the commands, the entreaties of that Friend for 
whom we ought to think it an honor and a privilege to shed our 
blood. Surely then, my brethren, we cannot but repent. Surely 
the overwhelming goodness of God must lead us to repentance, 
and constrain us to turn to him with our whole hearts, with 
weeping and mourning and humble confession. Surely, we 
must approach the table of our still forgiving, though often of- 
fended Lord, with feelings like those of the penitent who wash- 
ed the Saviour's feet with her tears, and wiped them with the 
hairs of her head. And we shall go from his table, crying, 
What shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits? and resolv- 
ing to bring forth fruits meet for repentance. By all your hopes 
of heaven, by all that God has done for your souls, by the dy- 
ing love of his Son, who is here set forth crucified before you, 
and of whose flesh and blood you are now to partake, I beseech 
and conjure you to do this ; to live as becomes those for whose 
sakes so much has been done, and to present yourselves afresh, 
as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God, which is your 
reasonable service. If you refuse or neglect to do this, how can 
you any longer profess a hope in Christ, or come any more to 
his table? As often as you approach it, you publicly profess a 
hope that God has done, or will do for your souls, every thing 
which has now been mentioned. And can you express such a 



DONE FOR MY SOUL. 551 

hope as this, without hving in a corresponding manner? Can 
you bear to say, one hour, 1 beheve, or hope that God has done 
all this for my soul, and the next hour, say by your conduct, I 
feel no gratitude, and shall make him no returns'? Can you 
bear that the world should have occasion to say, there is a man 
who professes to believe that God has done, we know not how 
many wonderful things for his soul, and yet he shows little more 
thankfulness, oi* religious sensibility or concern for his Master's 
honor, than we do, who profess nothing? O, my brethren, we 
must, we must, be consistent. We must either cease to express 
a hope that God has done all this for us, or we must live as be- 
comes those for whom so much has been done. We must either 
love much, or cease to express a hope that much has been for- 
given us. 

I need not tell you that nothing is more irksome than to hear 
a person whose life exhibits little of the power of religion, adopt 
the language of our text, and relate a long tale of his conver- 
sion and religious experience. The language of open impiety 
itself is not so disgusting. How inexpressibly loathsome, then, 
must we appear to the holy, heart-searching God, if we call him 
our God, style ourselves his children, address him in long prayers, 
and come to his table, while he sees little or no love, zeal or sin- 
cerity in our hearts. Well may he compare such persons to 
lukewarm water, and cast them from him with disgust, exclaim- 
ing, I would thou wert either cold or hot. 

Yet even such characters he will freely forgive, if they now 
repent. Let none be driven away by a sense of guilt. Let us 
come rather and present him that sacrifice of a broken heart 
which he will never despise, however unworthy the hand that 
offers it. Do this, my brethren, and the reception of new par- 
don and new mercies, will give you new reason to cry, Come 
and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath 
done for my soul. 



BLESSED RECIPROCITY. 



THE RECIPROCAL INTEREST OF CHRIST AND HIS PEOPLE. 



My Beloved is mine, and I am his. Song ii. 16. 



The most learned, judicious and pious commentators, both 
Jewish and Christian, have ever considered this book, as a kind 
of parable, or allegory, which represents in a highly figurative, 
but striking manner, the mutual affection which subsists between 
Christ and his church. The correctness of this view is confirmed 
by the fact, that, in both the Old and New Testaments, Christ 
is often represented as the husband of his church, whilst the 
church is styled the bride, the Lamb's wife. The apostle in- 
deed, intimates, that the marriage union was designed by God 
to exemplify the union between the Saviour and his people, — 
adding, this is a great mystery. And however strange or im- 
proper some of the figurative expressions in this book, which 
refer to that mystery, may appear to us, they are perfectly agree- 
able to the manners and language of eastern nations, and were 
deemed fit and proper by those in whose age and country they 
were written. 

The persons who are introduced as speaking in this allegori- 
cal drama, are Christ, his church and her companions, who are 
called the daughters of Jerusalem. The words of our text were 
uttered by the church. I need not tell you to whom they refer. 



ETC. 553 

I need not tell you that Christ, and he alone, is emphatically the 
beloved of his church. He it is, whom having not seen ihey 
love ; for Christ himself informs us, that he has not a real dis- 
ciple on earth, who does not love him more than possessions, 
friends or life itself. Now every such disciple, every real Christian 
may say, Christ is mine and I am his. To illustrate and estab- 
lish this assertion, is my present design. 

I. Every real Christian may say, Christ is mine. There 
are five diiferent ways in which any thing may become ours. 
The first is by formation, or production. In this way the arti- 
cles which we construct, and the fruits of the earth which our 
labor produces, become ours. The second is by purchase, or 
exchange. In this way we obtain many things which were pre- 
viously the property of others. The third is by inheritance. In 
this manner we become possessed of the property of deceased 
relatives. The fourth is by conquest. In this manner many 
things are acquired, especially by sovereign princes. The last 
is by gift. In this manner whatever is bestowed on us by the 
generosity of others, becomes our property. Among all these 
ways, there is only one in which Christ can become ours. He 
cannot become ours by formation, for he created us, and not we 
him. He cannot become ours by right of inheritance ; for we 
are the offspring of a degenerate race and can inherit nothing 
from them but sin and misery. He cannot become ours by pur- 
chase ; for he will not sell himself, and if he would, who is rich 
enough to pay the price? He cannot become ours by conquest, 
for who is able to overcome Omnipotence ? There is but one 
other way in which any thing can become ours, viz. by gift; 
and in this way Christ becomes the property of all his people. 

In the first place, he is given to them by his Father. Herein 
is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and gave 
his Son that he might be a propitiation for our sins. God so 
loved the Avorld that he gave his only begotten Son. And again ^ 
he gave him to be head over all things to his church. 

In the second place, Christ gives himself to his people. He 
loved me, says the apostle, and gave himself for me. Christ 
loved the church and gave himself for it. In thus giving him- 
self for us, he gave himself to us; for he speaks of giving us 
his flesh to eat, his blood to drink, his soul to be an offering for 
our sins, and his Spirit to dwell in and sanctify us. Since then 



554 SELF SURRENDERED, 

Christ is thus given to us by his Father, and by himself, noth- 
ing is necessary to make him ours but the cordial reception of 
this gift. But every Christian does cordially receive him, by 
faith, as the free, unmerited gift of God, and thus Christ be- 
comes his, so that he may exclaim. My beloved is mine, my Sa- 
viour, my Head, my Life, my everlasting portion. 

II. And as Christ is the property of all true Christians, so, 
all Christians are his. 

We have already mentioned the various ways in which the 
property of any thing may be acquired. In all these ways 
Christians are the property of Christ. In the first place, they 
are his by creation; for by him and for him they were created. 
Their existence is not only given, but preserved by him ; for he 
upholds all things by the word of his power. He it is that 
made us, and not we ourselves; so that we are the sheep of his 
pasture and the people of his hand. 

In the second place, they are his by inheritance ; for we are 
told that the Father hath appointed him heir of all things. As 
the first-born and only begotten Son of God, he is sole heir of 
all the Father's possessions. Of this ample inheritance, the 
church is, in an especial manner, a part; for we read that the 
Lord's portion is his people; Israel is the lot of his inheritance. 

In the third place, they are his by purchase; for he has bought 
them, bought them with his own blood. If it be asked, how he 
could purchase what was already his own ; I reply, though they 
were his by right of creation and of inheritance, yet they had 
fraudulently sold themselves to other masters, and by so doing 
had forfeited their lives into the hands of justice. The justice 
of God, and the law of God, had a claim upon them which must 
be satisfied, before the Saviour could claim them as his. This 
claim Christ satisfied. He gave himself a sacrifice in their stead, 
and thus redeemed or ransomed them from the curse of the law 
and from the fires of hell. Hence the language of the apostle, 
ye have sold yourselves for naught and ye shall be ransomed 
without money. They are so. Ye know, says the apostle to 
Christians, that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, 
as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a 
lamb without blemish and without spot. Ye are not therefore 
your own, ye are bought with a price. 
In the fourth place. Christians are the property of Christ by 



CHRIST EMBRACED. 555 

right of conquest. If it be asked, how it could be necessary, 
that Christ should acquire the possession of them both by pur- 
chase and conquest, I answer, after he had paid the price of 
their redemption, the tyrants to whom they had sold themselves 
refused to give them up. They had sold themselves to sin, and 
thus became its slaves; for whoso committeth sin is the slave of 
sin, and in consequence of this, they were holden as captives by 
the cord of their iniquities. By thus becoming slaves to sin, 
they had rendered themselves the captives of satan, so that they 
were led captive by him at his will, and he as a strong man 
armed, kept possession of their hearts as his castle. Being then 
the captives of him who has the power of death, they became 
subject to death, and liable to be shut up, not only in the grave, 
but in hell. From all these tyrants, it therefore becomes neces- 
sary to rescue them by force. This Christ has done. He, as 
the Lord of hosts, the Lord strong and mighty in battle, is strong- 
er than the strong man armed. By the power of his grace he 
saves his people from their sins, breaking the otherwise inde- 
structible cords in which they were bound. He has also defeat- 
ed and spoiled the principalities and powers of darkness, tri- 
umphing over them in his cross. He has entered the dominions 
of death, taken away his sting, and received the keys both of 
the grave and of hell. Hence we are told, that when he as- 
cended on high, he led captivity captive, that is, he led as cap- 
tives those enemies, who had captivated and enslaved his peo- 
ple. Nor was this all. It was also necessary that he should 
conquer his people, for they had become enemies to him, by 
wicked works. The language of their hearts and of their con- 
duct was. We will not have this man to reign over us. What was 
the state of their hearts we may learn from the impressive lan- 
guage of the apostle. The weapons of our warfare, says he, 
are mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds, 
casting down imaginations, anfl every high thing that exalteth 
itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing every thought 
into captivity to the obedience of Christ. From this passage, 
it appears that the minds of men are full of strong holds, high 
things, and lofty imaginations, which oppose and keep out the 
knowledge of God; and all these things Christ is obliged to cast 
down and destroy, before his people become willing to obey him. 
Well then may it be said that they are his by right of conquest. 



556 SELF SURRExNDERED. 

Hence, lastly, they become his by gift. In the first place, 
they are given to him by his Father. This is asserted in places 
too numerous to mention. We shall quote but one. Speaking 
of Christians in his last intercessory prayer, he says to his Fath- 
er, Thine they were, and thou gavest them to me ; and all thine 
are mine. 

In the second place, all true Christians have voluntarily given 
themselves to Christ. Conquered by his grace, constrained by 
his love, and gratefully affected by what he has done for them, 
they have freely and joyfully given away themselves to him, to 
be his forever, and consecrated all their powers and faculties to 
his service. Thus a union is formed between Christ and his 
church, which is by the inspired writers compared to the mar- 
riage union, and to that which subsists between the head and 
the members of the human body. He becomes bound to them, 
and they to him, by the bonds of an everlasting covenant, which 
shall never be broken ; and they may therefore triumphantly 
exclaim. Our beloved is ours and we are his, and nothing shall 
ever dissolve this union or separate us from him. But it may 
perhaps be asked, since Christ is but one and Christians are 
many, how can each individual Christian possess Christ, so as 
to say with propriety, Christ is mine? I answer, because there 
is a sufficiency in Christ for all. He is infinite, and Christians 
are finite; and all finite beings united cannot exhaust infinity 
Besides, it is the nature of every blessing which God has given 
us to be shared in common, that each one may possess it, with- 
out excluding others. Take for instance the sun. God design- 
ed this luminary to be a common blessing. There is therefore 
light and heat in it sufficient for all. Each one of you^ my 
friends, derives the same advantages from the sun, as if there 
were no person to share them with you. What if thousands and 
millions in other parts of the world, and in other planets around 
it, are at this moment possessing and rejoicing in the sun's light 
and warmth? Does that at all deprive you of these blessings? 
Is not the sun still as much yours as your happiness requires ? 
Could it be more perfectly yours, if you were the only being on 
whom it shines? Now Christ is the Sun of righteousness, and 
every one who will look to him as such, may possess him as 
perfectly as if there were not another Christian in the world, to 
share in his beams. Hence, as every person who has eyes, may 



CHRIST EMBRACED. 557 

say, the sun is mine, God has given it to me, to warm, enligh- 
ten, and guide me; so every Christian may say, Christ is mine; 
God has given him to me, to bless, to guide and save me with 
an everlasting salvation. 

The subject we have been considering, my friends^ is to tho 
Christian, full, not only of consolation, but of instruction. To 
some of the most important truths which it teaches, I propose 
to call your attention. 

1. From this subject you may learn something of the worth 
and interest of the Christian's portion. A pious man once visi- 
ted a friend, who had recently come into possession of a very 
large landed property. His friend, after some conversation, led 
him to the top of his house which commanded an extensive pros- 
pect, and directing his attention successively to a great number 
of valuable objects, added, after the mention of each particular, 
'' that is mine." After he had finished the long catalogue of his 
possessions, his guest asked. Do you see yonder cottage on the 
waste? There lives a poor widow who can say more than you 
can; she can say, Christ is mine. My friends, did the rich man 
or the poor widow, possess the more valuable property? But 
the very question is dishonorable to Christ. Could the rich man 
have pointed to the sun and moon, the planets, and the fixed 
stars, and said with truth, all these are mine: still his posses- 
sions, weighed against the poor widow's treasure, would have 
been lighter than vanity. The Creator must be worth infinitely 
more than the whole creation. He can do that for those who 
possess him, which the whole creation cannot do. He can wash 
away their sins, he can sanctify their natures, he can support 
them under afflictions, he can prepare them for death, he can fill 
their souls with happiness, and he can make that happiness 
eternal; neither of which the whole creation could do for its pos- 
sessor. O how rich then, how incalculably rich is the poorest 
Christian ! He is the only being who is not now able and who 
never will be able to calculate the worth of his possessions. In 
possessing Christ, he possesses all things, for he possesses him 
who created and who disposes of all things. He is a joint heir 
with him who is heir of all things. Well then might the apos- 
tle say to Christians, all things are yours. Well may Christ 
say to his poorest disciple, I know thy poverty, but thou art 
rich. And well may every Christian, contemplating his portion, 



558 SELF SURRENDERED. 

cry, Thanks, thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift! 

2. We may learn from our subject to whom this incompara- 
ble gift belongs; who it is that without presumption, may say, 
Christ is mine. Every man, my friends, may say this, Avho can 
with truth repeat the other part of our text ; who can truly say, 
Christ is my beloved and I am his property. The relation be- 
tween Christ and his people, like that between a father and a 
son, is mutual. As no man can say respecting another, he is 
my father, unless he can truly add, I am his son; so no one can 
say of Christ, he is mine ; unless he can truly add, I am his ; 
and no one can in this sense say, I am Christ's, unless he has 
freely given himself to Christ, to be his forever. Nor can any 
one thus give himself to Christ, who does not love him with su- 
preme affection, who cannot say, he is emphatically my beloved. 
Can you then my friends say this ? Is Christ emphatically he 
whom your souls love 7 Have you freely and joyfully given 
yourselves to him, in an everlasting covenant, to be his and his 
only 7 If so, he has no less freely given himself to you. He 
has loved you and given himself for you, for his language is, I 
love them that love me. Whenever then you can be sure that 
you love Christ, you may feel assured that he loves you. When 
you can with truth say, I am Christ's, you may always with 
truth add, Christ is mine. 

But those who cannot with truth utter the whole of this pas- 
sage, cannot with truth utter any part of it ; and if they attempt 
so to do, they will put asunder what God has joined, and final- 
ly perish in their own unbelief 

3. From this subject, my Christian friends, you may learn 
the extent of your duty. I am Christ's, are words easily said, 
but the engagements which they imply are not so easil}?" fulfill- 
ed. If we are his, we are no longer our own. If we arc his, 
then every thing that we possess is his — our time, our posses- 
sions, our strength, our influence, our powers of body and fac- 
ulties of mind, all are his, and must be consecrated to his ser- 
vice and glory; and if we love him supremely, they will be so, 
for the whole man ever follows the heart. The object which 
possesses our hearts, will possess ourselves. And if we are 
Christ's, we shall make his cause our own, his interest our own, 
his honor our own, and shall rejoice when we are counted wor- 
thy to suffer pain and shame for his name. This the apostle 



CHRIST EMBRACED. 559 

speaks of, as a truth with which he presumed all Christians 
were acquainted. What, know ye not that ye are not your own, 
for ye are bought with a price? Glorify God therefore, in your 
bodies aud your spirits which are God's. For none of us liveth 
to himself, and no man dieth to himself; for whether we live, 
we live unto the Lord, or whether we die, we die unto the Lord; 
wliether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's. If this 
view of the obligations which are implied in saying, I am 
Christ's, appears discouraging, consider for your own encourage- 
ment, 

4. How great are the privileges which result from an ability 
to say, Christ is mine. If Christ is yours, then all that he pos- 
sesses is yours. His power is yours to defend you, his wisdom 
and knowledge are yours to guide you, his righteousness is yours 
to justify you, his Spirit and grace are yours to sanctify you, his 
heaven is yours to receive you. He is as much yours as you are 
his, and as he requires all that you have to be given to him, so 
he gives all that he has to you. Come to him, then, with holy 
boldness and take what is your own. Remember you have al- 
ready received what is most precious, and what it was most dif- 
ficult for him to give, his body, his blood, his life. And surely 
he who has given them, will not refuse you smaller blessings. 
If when you were enemies to God, you were reconciled to him 
by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, you shall 
be saved by his life. You will never live happily or usefully, 
you will never highly enjoy or greatly adorn religion, until you 
can feel that Christ, and all that he possesses, are yours ; and 
learn to come and take them as your own. Then you will have 
all and abound, and find that in possessing Christ you do in- 
deed possess many things. 

5. From this subject, my professing friends, you may learn 
what is the nature of the ordinance which you are about to cel- 
ebrate, and what you are about to do at the Lord's table. In 
this ordinance we give ourselves to Christ, and he gives himself 
to us. He gives us himself in the symbols of his body and 
blood, and we renew the dedication of ourselves to him. He 
gives himself to us as a sacrifice slain for our sins, and we pre- 
sent ourselves as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to him. 
This is the language of our conduct at the Lord's table. Is it 
also the language of your hearts 7 Are they saying, Christ 



560 SELF SURRENDERED. 

my friend, my beloved is mine, and I am his — willingly, joy- 
fully his? If so, come and receive Christ, for he is yours. 
Come and give yourself to Christ, for you are his. 

One word to those who are about to depart, and I have done. 
You have heard, my friends, that those who will give themselves 
to Christ, shall receive him in return. This exchange I now 
propose to you. I offer you Christ's heart in exchange for yours. 



SEAECHING RETROSPECTION. 



FORMER INSTRUCTIONS RECOLLECTED AND APPLIED. 



Now of the things which we have spoken unto you, this is the sum. 

Heb. VIII. 1; 



These words compose the preface to a brief recapitulation of 
the doctrines which the writer had stated more fully in the pre- 
ceding part of this epistle. I propose, on the present occasion, 
to make a similar use of them. If the apostle thought it proper 
to repeat what he had written^ and which might, therefore, if 
forgotten, be easily read afresh, it surely cannot be improper for 
the speaker to remind you of what has been merely spoken in 
your hearing, and which, if forgotten, you have no opportunity 
to review. And as it cannot be improper, so I trust it may not 
be altogether unprofitable, to give you a brief and general sum- 
mary of the truths which have been exhibited in this place for 
a few months past. The beneficial effects which such a measure 
has a tendency to produce, and which it possibly may produce, 
are great and numerous. It may convince you, that a much 
larger portion of God's revealed truth has been presented to 
your view, in a comparatively short space of time, than you are 
perhaps aware of. It may lead you to inquire, what effect all 
this truth has produced. If when heard, it made any impres- 
sions upon your minds, a review of it may revive those im- 

VOL. I. 71 



662 TRUTH RECALLED 

pressions. If it made no impression, you may be led to inquire 
the cause. For these, and other reasons which will presently 
appear, I propose to recall your attention to the subjects of my 
late discourses. In doing this, I shall go back only to the last 
Sabbath of the last year, and endeavor to give you a general 
view of the truths, which, since that time, have been exhibited 
to this church and society. 

On the last Sabbath of the last year, you were addressed from 
these words of our Lord, selected from a familiar parable: And 
the door was shut It was shown that the door here mentioned 
was the door of admission to a place in which Christ was, and 
the following proposition was stated as the doctrine of the text: 
The time is approaching, when the door of admission to every 
place where Christ is, will be shut against all whom that time 
finds unprepared. This, it was remarked, implies that the door 
is now open, open to the prayers and the praises of all who will 
enter in. The door of admission to the means of grace and 
ordinances of religion in which Christ manifests himself, is 
open ; the door of admission to his church is open ; the door of 
admission to heaven is open. But the time is approaching, 
when all these doors will be shut forever against the persons, 
and against the prayers of all whom death finds unprepared. 
You were reminded that before the close of the present year, 
the door would thus be shut against some of you, and you were 
invited, entreated, urged by every motive, to guard against final 
exclusion from Christ and from heaven, by entering in without 
delay. The church v/ere also reminded that the door of use- 
fulness would soon be shut against them, that the only opportu- 
nity of praying for their children and friends, and laboring for 
their salvation, would soon be gone forever. I know of no 
eftect produced by this sermon. It may possibly have produced 
[gome temporary effect on the church. On the congregation 1 
have no reason to suppose it produced any. 

Soon after this, your attention was called to these words of 
Jehovah : / am God, and there is none else; I am God, and 
there is none like me. In a discourse on these words, an attempt 
was made to present God to your view, as he is exhibited in the 
Scriptures. Proofs and illustrations were exhibited of the fact, 



AND APPLIED. 563 

that he is an eternal, self-existent, independent Spirit, infinite in 
power, in knowledge, in wisdom, in goodness, justice, faithful- 
ness, mercy and truth, the Creator, Preserver, and rightful 
Sovereign of all creatures and all worlds. His claims to our 
supreme love, confidence and obedience, founded on these per- 
fections and relations, were pressed upon you, and you were 
urged by all that is great, and by all that is good in his charac- 
ter, to submit to him and choose him as your God. At the same 
lime, the infinite evil, malignity and danger of sin, as committed 
against such a Being, were presented to your view, and you 
were entreated to hate it, forsake it, repent of it. 

The next discourse of which I would remind you, was on 
these words: Am I in God^s stead? The sentiment deduced 
from this passage was, that no creature can supply to us the 
place of God, or do that for us which God can do, and which 
is necessary to our happiness. This sentiment was explained, 
and its truth made evident, by an appeal to facts. It was shown 
that no created object can make us happy, even in this world, 
that no creature can guard us against affliction, from sickness, 
or death, or pardon our sins, or sanctify our natures, and that 
aU creatures united, can do nothing for us beyond the grave. 
Hence was inferred the folly, as well as sinfulness, of putting 
any created object in the place of God, and bf neglecting him, 
in order to secure the applause, or escape the censures of mankmd. 

The first and great corwmand is, thou shalt love the Lord thy 
God with all thy hearty and with all thy soid, and with all thy 
strength^ was the subject of the next discourse which I shall 
mention. In meditating on this command, we considered its 
import, its reasonableness, and the justice of its claims to bo 
called the first and great command. In explaining its import, 
we showed that it requires us to love God with the highest de- 
gree of affection, of which our natures are capable, to love him, 
of course, more than we love ourselves. The reasonableness 
of the command was argued, from the infinite perfection and 
loveliness of the Divine character, from the intimate relation < 
which subsists between him and us considered as his creatures, 
from the numerous and inestimable favors which he has bestowed 
upon us, and from the impossibility of finding any other object 



664 TRUTH RECALLED 

worthy to rival him in our affections. In proof that this is justly 
called the first and greatest of God's commands, it was stated 
that it does in effect include all the other commands of God, 
and that unless we obey it, we cannot obey a single precept of 
the divine law. In the improvement, it was shown, that we 
have all disobeyed this precept, that we are under the strongest 
obligations to repent of this disobedience, that if we repent of 
it, we shall be pardoned, that if we do not, our condemnation is 
certain and perfectly just. 

All the people wept, luhen they heard the words of the law, was 
the text of another discourse, which, about the same time, so- 
licited your attention. The object of that discourse was, to 
show what reason sinful creatures like ourselves have, to feel 
those emotions of which weeping is the expression, when the 
law of God is exhibited to their view ; or, in other words, why 
they ought to repent of having transgressed it. The reasons 
mentioned, were the unrivalled excellence of the law, the char- 
acter and works of its author, and the dreadful effects which 
transgressing it have produced upon our bodies, our souls, and 
our fellow creatures. It was further added, that the gospel of 
Christ is full of reasons why we should mourn and weep in 
view of our disobedience to the law, and that no one, who 
possesses a particle of love to his Saviour, can refrain from 
lamenting the degradation, the agonies to which our sins sub- 
jected him, but to which he cheerfully submitted for our sakes. 
In the improvement it was remarked, that we must either obey 
the numerous commands which call upon us to repent, or assert 
that they must be blotted from the Bible ; that we must either 
condemn all who have repented of their sins, or imitate their 
example. 

Permit me next to remind you of a discourse, in which the 
speaker exerted himself to the utmost extent of his power, to 
rouse you from the state of fatal security in which you seemed 
to be slumbering. The theme of this discourse, was the follow- 
ing tremendous threatening : It is a people of no understanding; 
therefore he that made them will not have mercy on them, and 
he that formed them loill show them no favor. In discoursing 
on this subject, I endeavored to show, that by understanding is 



AND APPLIED. 565 

here meant spiritual understanding, or that heavenly wisdom 
which consists in the knowledge of God, and of which the fear 
of God is said to be the beginning. It was farther remarked, 
that the persons to whom this threatening was originally ad- 
dressed, had long enjoyed the means of grace, — means, which, 
if rightly improved, would have made them wise unto salvation, 
but which they had neglected and abused. I endeavored to 
prove, by plain, undeniable facts, that you have been favored 
with even greater means and privileges, but that many of you 
have neglected to improve them, and are in consequence without 
understanding, in the sense of the text, and exposed to the 
threaten in gs which it denounces. The awful import of the 
threatening was then exhibited. We showed it to be this : God 
will deal with them in strict justice, according to the rules of 
his revealed law. In other words, he will treat them as they 
deserve; that is, first, he will either deny them the common 
blessings of his providence, or grant them those blessings in 
anger, and send a curse with them; secondly, he will either 
deprive them of their religious privileges and opportunities, or 
withhold his blessing and thus render them useless; thirdly, he 
will deny them the influences of his good Spirit, and give them 
up to blindness of mind and hardness of heart, and thus render 
their destruction certain. These awful truths we pressed upon 
you with the utmost earnestness, and concluded by reminding 
you, that should they produce no salutary effect, it would furnish 
additional reason to fear that God had determined not to have 
mercy on you, and to show you no favor. 

What if some did not believe? Shall their unbelief make the 
faith of God loithout effect? God forbid! In a discourse on 
these words it was shown, that man's disbelief of God's threat- 
enings will by no means prevent the execution of these threat- 
enings. It will not, because God foresaw that unbelief when 
he uttered them. It will not, because that unbelief, by calling 
his veracity in question, renders it necessary for him to establish 
it by fulfilling all his threatenings. It will not, because it never 
has done so. Our first parents did not believe God's threatenings; 
the inhabitants of the old world, of Sodom, did not believe 
them ; the Jews did not believe them ; yet in all these cases 
they were executed. And so they ever will be. 



666 TRUTH RECALLED 

For what man knoiveth the things of a nian^ save the spirit 
of man which is in him, ? Even so the things of God knoweth no 
man, but the Spirit of God. In a discourse on this passage, I 
remarked, that by the things of a man are evidently meant liis 
secret thoughts and feeUngs. These we cannot know till they 
are expressed either by looks, actions or words. In other words, 
we cannot read the hearts of our fellow creatures. Much less 
can we read the heart of God, or know any thing of his thoughts, 
feelings and designs, unless they are revealed to us by his Spirit, 
by whom alone they are known. Hence we inferred, that a 
revelation of the mind and will of God is unspeakably desira- 
ble, and even necessary for our happiness; that the revelation 
which he has given us in the Bible, is to be highly prized; that 
his goodness in granting it to us, claims our most thankful ac- 
knowledgements ; that the aid of his Spirit, by whom it was 
dictated, is necessary to a right understanding of it; and that it 
is the height of folly to trust to our own reasonings and conjec- 
tures respecting what God ought to do, when he has actually in- 
formed us what he will do. 

God is angry with the wicked every day. If he turn not, he 
will tvhet his sword, he hath bent his bow and made it ready. He 
hath also prepared for them the insti^um,ents of death. In dis- 
coursing on this passage, I remarked, that all are wicked, who 
are not righteous; that God is highly and constantly displeased 
with the wicked, and feels towards them the strong antipathy 
of good to bad; that this displeasure being caused by the unut- 
terable holiness of his nature must continue forever; that he 
will express it, not by the rod, but by the sword, not by instru- 
ments of correction, but by instruments of death, and that it is 
impossible for them to escape its effects in any other way, than 
by turning from their sins, and turning to him. 

The im^agination of m^an^s heart is evil from, his youth. In a 
discourse on these words, I attempted to explain and establish 
the doctrine of human depravity, or the depravity of man's 
heart. It was remarked, that when we assert any thing to be 
depraved, or corrupted, we mean that it is not what it originally 
was, or that it is altered for the worse. We mean the same, 
when we assert that the human heart is depraved. We mean 



AND APPLIED. 567 

that it is not what it was originally, but is altered for the worse. 
If we would ascertain how much it is altered for the worse, or 
what is the extent of its depravity, we must compare it with a 
perfectly good or holy heart. So far as it differs from such a 
heart, so far it is depraved. I then remarked, 

1. That a perfectly good heart can have no feelings or de- 
sires which it would be wrong to express. But our hearts have 
such feelings and desires, therefore they are depraved. 

2. A perfectly good heart will ever prompt its possessor to do 
all the good in his power. If then, our hearts do not prompt us 
to do good, they are depraved. 

3. A perfectly good heart will always be in perfect subjection 
to reason and conscience. If our hearts do not submit to these 
guides, they are depraved. 

4. A perfectly good heart is always perfectly obedient to the 
law of God. In other words, it leads its possessor to love God 
with all the heart, and his neighbor as himself. If our hearts 
are not thus obedient, if they do not thus love God and our 
neighbor, they are depraved. 

Unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure; 
hut even their mind and conscience is defiled. In discoursing on 
this passage, I endeavored to show that the depravity of the 
heart, already mentioned, extended its corrupting influence to 
the intellectual faculties of man, rendering their minds blind to 
all spiritual objects, and their consciences insensible to the evil 
of many sins, which, in the estimation of God, are of the first 
magnitude. Hence it was inferred, that our understandings 
and consciences are not safe guides, without the word and tho 
Spirit of God, and that we must, in obedience to the divine com- 
mand, trust in the Lord with all our heart. 

If thy hand or thy foot offend thee^ cut them dff^ and cast 
them, from thee; it is better for thee to enter into life halt or maim- 
ed.^ rather than having two hands ^ or two feet ., to be cast into ever- 
lasting fire. In discoursing on this passage, I observed, that to 
offend, in the sense of the text, is to tempt, or cause us to sin, 
and endeavored to show that every object, which thus offends 
us, must be removed, however dear or necessary it may be. 



568 TRUTH RECALLED 

Where their worm dieth 7io(, and their fire is not quenched. 
The discourse on this text Avas dehvered so recently, that I 
would hope it is not yet entirely forgotten ; and that the bare 
mention of it, will be sufficient to recall its leading sentiments 
to your minds. Without further noticing it, therefore, I proceed 
to remark, that the discourses which I have mentioned, in whicfi 
the terrors of the Lord were exhibited, were interspersed with 
nearly an equal number, in which the mercy of God, the way 
of salvation by Jesus Christ, and his gracious invitations were 
pressed upon your attention. In a sermon on the subject of the 
prodigal son, we showed you God's readiness to receive and 
forgive returning sinners, even while they were yet a great way 
oif. In another, on the text, God comraendeth his love towards 
us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us, we 
attempted to display the wonderful love which he exhibited in 
the gift of his Son. In a third, we showed that in Jesus Christ 
dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, and that he is 
ready to impart a portion of this fulness to all who come to him. 
In a fourth, we described his coming into the world ; in a fifth, 
his ascension to heaven, and in a sixth his coming to judge the 
world. 

Another on the passage, O Lord^ lam oppressed^ undertake 
for me, you probably recollect. Faith, repentance, the manner 
in which we must pray, if we would pray acceptably, composed 
the subjects of the other discourses. Other texts, which I can 
only mention, were these: Have ye your hearts yet hardened? 
Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by ? Noah walked with 
God. He that denieth the Son, the same hath not the Father. 
See that ye refuse not him that speaketh ; for if they escaped 
not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not 
we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from heav- 
en. These texts I mention, because the mention of them may 
possibly remind you of the sermons, with which they were con- 
nected. 

A number nearly equal to all I have noticed, must be passed 
over entirely, that we may reserve room for a suitable improve- 
ment of the subject. Of one more, however, I will remind you, 
which was preached little more than a month since, on the fol- 
lowing text : — If the good man of the house had known at what 



AND APPLIED. 569 

hour the thief would come, he would have watched, and would 
not have suffered his house to he broken up. After explaining 
the passage and its connection with the context, I endeavored 
to show how impenitent sinners and Christians would be affect- 
ed by knowing the time of their deaths, and urged both classes 
to live for one month, as they would do did they know that they 
had but a month to live. I promised, God assisting me, to en- 
deavor to preach as if my labors were to end with the month, 
and entreated you to hear as if, after that time had expired, you 
were to hear no more. I will only add, that so far as I can 
discover, there has been less religious zeal and sensibility mani- 
fested among us since than there was before. 

But I can proceed no further in giving you a summary of the 
truth which has been exhibited. Had 1 been aware of the dif- 
ficulty of performing the task, I should not have undertaken it. 
I fear that you have found it wearisome, and scarcely can hope 
that it will prove in the smallest degree profitable. Let us, 
however, endeavor to make the best improvement of it which 
is in our power. 

1. Let me request you to reflect seriously how large a portion 
of revealed truth, and of that part of it too, which is most 
alarming, most interesting, and most calculated to reach the 
conscience and affect the heart, has been exhibited to you since 
the present year commenced. Nearly all the most important 
doctrines of the Bible and many of its most important precepts 
have been mentioned in the preceding sketch. Yet I have men- 
tioned little more than half of the discourses which you have 
heard from the speaker on the Sabbath. Of what you have 
heard from other ministers, and of the subjects discussed at our 
evening lectures, I have said nothing. My hearers, were you 
sensible that so much truth had been pressed upon you, that 
almost the whole contents of revelation had been, as it were, 
poured upon your heads within a few months? 

2. Let me ask, whether all these truths ought not to have 
produced some lasting, salutary effect upon your temper and 
conduct? Can you conceive of truth more important, more 
interesting, more suited to influence the understanding, awaken 
the conscience, and affect the heart ? Even if they were less 
important than they are, ought not the character and the author- 
ity of that God who has revealed them, to have secured our be- 

voL I. 72 



570 TRUTH RECALLED 

lief, our submission and obedience ! In a word, if these truths 
do not affect men, do not reform them, do not induce them to 
work out their own salvation, can you conceive of any truths 
whicli Avill do it 7 Permit me to inquire, 

3. What effect all this truth has produced upon you ? Has it 
produced any salutary effects ? Has it imparted to you any 
knowledge of God; of yourselves, of your duty? Has it made 
you wise to salvation? Are any of you truly religious charac- 
ters now, who were not so at the commencement of the year 7 
Are any attending seriously to religion now, who then treated it 
with neglect ? Have those of you who then professed a relig- 
ious character, made any progress in religion ? Or has all this 
truth flowed over this assembly, like water over a rock and 
produced no effect ? If it does not produce good effects, it pro- 
duces those which are bad. If it does not soften, it hardens the 
heart. If it does not prove a savor of life unto life, it proves a 
savor of death unto death, for God has solemnly declared that 
it shall not return unto him void, it shall produce effects of one 
kind or the other. 

Indeed, it is evident from the very nature of things, that it 
must be so. When the declarations, the threatenings and the 
promises of God are urged upon the heart, it must either receive 
or reject them. And if it rejects them, then it must in the very 
act of rejecting them^ harden itself, and increase its own obsti- 
nacy. Besides, whenever we hear the truth without yielding to 
it, we increase our guilt. We are guilty of a great sin, guilty 
of disbelieving what God asserts, of disobeying his commands. 
For all this, we must give an account. Of every portion of 
divine truth which is exhibited to us, and every opportunity 
which we enjoy of hearing it, we must give an account. If we 
derive no benefit from it, the fault is our own. Does not my 
word, says Jehovah, do good to them who walk uprightly ? a 
question which is equivalent to an assertion that it does. If, 
then, that portion of God's word Avhich you have heard, has 
done you no good, it is because you have not walked uprightly. 

From these remarks, it appears that all on whom the truth 
has produced no salutary effects, have been constantly increas- 
ing in sinfulness and guilt, and have done much to provoke God 
to forsake them forever. Perhaps, on hearing this, some will 
say, since this is the case, it will be advisable for us to hear the 



AND APPLIED. 571 

truth no more, and to absent ourselves, for the remainder of our 
lives, from the house of God. My liearers, I met, a few days 
since, with a well authenticated account of one, who, in a neigh- 
boring State, adopted this very resolution. In vain did his pas- 
tor and his pious friends urge him to renounce it. He maintain- 
ed it till he came lo his dying bed. Then he saw its folly, its 
madness. His remorse was great, his dying agonies terrible ; 
he died without hope. If you wish to die in a similar manner, 
imitate his conduct. If you wish to die in a manner equally 
terrible and hopeless, continue to hear the truth without believ- 
ing or obeying it : but if you would die the death of the right- 
eous, and have your latter end hke his, you must not only 
hear, but believe and obey it. 

4. Although it is never pleasant, and seldom proper, for a 
minister to speak of himself, yet I trust you will pardon me for 
reminding you how exceedingly discouraging and distressing it 
must be to the speaker, to see almost no salutary effects produ- 
ced by his labors, and to know that while they are producing 
no salutary effects, they are producing effects of an opposite 
kind. Put yourselves for a moment in his situation. Think 
what it must be with a body and mind exhausted and worn out, 
to toil in preparing a sermon which he is almost certain will do 
uo good. Think what it must be to come. Sabbath after Sab- 
bath, for months together, and warn, threaten, and entreat, 
while none regard it. Above all, think what it must be, for a 
minister to see his people hardening in their sins, treasuring up 
wrath and rushing on to destruction, endless, irretrievable des- 
truction, while all his efforts to save them, are frustrated by their 
unbelief If any of you are ready to censure me for despond- 
ing, and feeling tempted to suspend my exertions, let me ask 
them, what I shall do. What means shall I employ ? What 
shall I say to you ? What can I say, which I have not said 7 
What reason have I to hope, that should I labor through the 
remainder of the year, my exertions will not still prove inef- 
fectual ? Will you say, perhaps, God may bless them and ren- 
der them effectual? Alas, how can I hope for this when I see 
so many, not only in the congregation, but in the church, doing 
all in their power, by their unbelief and hardness of heart, to 
grieve the Spirit of God, and provoke him to forsake us forever. 



672 TRUTHRECALLED 

We are far more undeserving of the blessing now, than we were 
at the commencement of the year. To some of you, all this 
may appear little better than weakness and folly, but were you 
called on, as are the ministers of Christ, to sit down and con- 
template in solitude the infallible truth of God's word, and the 
awful threatenings which it contains; were you obliged to look 
steadily at death and judgment and the eternal world, and to 
contemplate the miseries of the wicked in the regions of des- 
pair ; and then turn and see the living hastening to those miser- 
ies, you would find it no trifle. But perhaps some hearer will 
say, it may afford consolation and encouragement to reflect that 
the church at least will derive some benefit from the truths ex- 
hibited to them. The church, the church in its present state, 
afford encouragement ! It is true, some few of them do, and 
most heartily do I thank them for it. But to contemplate it as 
a body, it affords any thing rather than encouragement. I will 
not, however, judge them, but call upon them to judge them- 
selves. Say, professor — I address each individual — would it 
afford the speaker any encouragement to know just how much 
you have been affected by each of the discourses mentioned 
above 7 Would it afford him any encouragement to enter un- 
seen your closet, and listen to your prayers, and look into your 
hearts and see how much, or rather, how little you feel 7 I 
doubt not indeed that there are closets and hearts among you, a 
sight of which would console and encourage me ; but can you 
doubt that were I to see the church as God sees it, every ray of 
hope and consolation, and encouragement, would vanish at 
once 7 Indeed, it is the little effect which the truth produces on 
those who profess to believe it, which more than any thing else, 
occasions discouragement. Do you recollect, professor, what 
was said to you at the close of the sermon on the worm that 
never dies, and the fire that is not quenched 7 Has it produced 
any salutary effect? Do you recollect the statement that every 
one who delights in the law of the Lord, and meditates therein 
day and night, shall be flourishing and fruitful like a tree plant- 
ed by the rivers of water 7 Did that produce any effect 7 
Could I see you properly affected by the truth, could I see you 
escaping from that worldly spirit which now eats out all the 
life of your religion ; could I see any thing like a general prev- 



AND APPLIED. SZS 

alence of religious feelings and meditation among you, it would 
at once strengthen my hands, encourage m^'- heart, and animate 
me to labor with hopes of success. But at present, if asked in 
the language of the prophet, what are those wounds in thy 
hands, I must answer in his words : They are those wherewith 
I was wounded in the house of my friends. 



THE NEW JERUSALEM. 



And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it ; for 
the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light tliereof. 

Rev. XXI. 23. 



The beloved disciple in this chapter gives us a particular de- 
scription of the heavenly world, as it appeared to him in vision. 
In condescension to our infirmities, which render it difficult for 
us to form clear conceptions of invisible and spiritual things, 
this happy world is represented to us as a magnificent city 
which, in allusion to the ancient metropolis of Judea, is styled 
the New Jerusalem. 

To show the symmetry and proportion, which prevail in 
heaven, and the perfect safety of its inhabitants, this city is said 
to be four square, and to be surrounded by a wall, great and 
high, Avith a guard of angels at every gate. 

It had three gates on every side, to show that, from all parts 
of the world, there is a way open to heaven for those who are 
suitably qualified to enjoy it; and that persons will come from 
the East, and the West, and the North, and the South, to sit 
down together in the kingdom of God. On these gates the 
names of the twelve tribes of Israel were inscribed, to intimate 
that none but the true Israel of God will be allowed to enter 
therein. On the twelve precious stones, which composed the 
foundations of the city walls, were engraved the names of the 



THE NEW JERUSALEM. 575 

twelve apostles of the Lamb; intimating, that the church in 
heaven, like the church on earth, is built upon the foundation of 
the prophets and apostles, Jesus Christ himself being the chief 
Corner Stone. To show how far heaven exceeds the world in 
which we live, those things which we here prize most highly 
are represented as being there applied to the most common and 
ordinary uses. The wall itself was composed of jasper, its 
foundations of the most precious stones ; its gates of pearl, and 
eren the streets were paved with the purest gold, transparent as 
glass. 

Conceive then, my friends, if you are able, how splendid, how 
glorious, how dazzling such a city must appear, thus composed 
of gold, pearls, diamonds, and all manner of precious stones, 
when the sun poured upon it his meridian beams, and filled 
every part of it with a blaze of light. Yet even this falls far 
short of the truth ; for the city was illuminated not by the 
beams of the natural sun, but by the glory of God, and the rays 
of the Sun of Righteousness. Nor is this all. To us nothing 
is more cheering, more valuable, more necessary than the light 
of the sun; and without it, the most magnificent cities would 
lose all their beauty in our eyes. But in the New Jerusalem 
even this is not wanted; for, says the apostle, the city had no 
need of the sun, or of the moon to shine in it; for the glory of 
God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof It is this 
part of the apostle's description which 1 propose more particu- 
larly to consider ; and my object is to show that the inhabitants 
of heaven have no need of the sun. or any other created lumi- 
nary. 

With a view to illustrate and establish this truth, let us inquire 
what are the purposes for which we need the celestial bodies, 
while we reside in this lower world. 

These purposes are particularly enumerated in the first chap- 
ter of Genesis, where we have an account of their creation. 
And God said, let there be light in the firmament of heaven, to 
divide the day from the night, and let them be for signs, and for 
seasons, and for days, and for years; and let them be for lights 
in the firmament of heaven, to give light upon the earth. Such 
are the purposes for which the heavenly luminaries were created; 
such the uses which they were designed to subserve. But for 
none of these purposes will they be needed by the inhabitants 
of the heavenly world. 



576 THE NEW JERUSALEM. 

I. The principal purpose here mentioned, for which the heav- 
enly bodies were created, and for which we need them in this 
lower world is, to give light upon the earth. In fufiUing the 
end of their creation, they subserve at once our convenience and 
happiness ; for truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is 
to behold the sun. How dark, how cheerless, how unfit for the 
habitation of man would this world be without them. But 
agreeable and necessary as they are to us, the New Jerusalem 
needs them not for this purpose ; for the glory of God doth 
lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof My friends, how 
infinitely must that light surpass ours, and how little do those 
who enjoy it need the beams of the natural sun ; which when 
shining in meridian splendor reflects but one faint ray of Jeho- 
vah's glory. We may indeed conceive of this luminary as only 
a vast mirror, placed opposite to one of the open gates of heaven, 
receiving and reflecting to creatures, some rays of that stream 
of light which issues from it far and wide. But while even this 
luminary is, as it were, only a moon, which shines with borrowed 
light, the Lord God is indeed a Sun; a Sun indebted to none for 
his beams; for, says the apostle, God is light; nay, he is the 
Father of lights, giving light to all, but receiving it from none. 
He dwelleth continually in his own light; in light unapproach- 
able by mortals, and covers himself with light and majesty as 
with a garment. Such, such is the being who enlightens the 
New Jerusalem. 

And the Lamb is the light thereof 

The unfathomable flood of light and glory, which unceasingly 
flows from the Father, is collected and concentrated in the per- 
son of his Son; for He is the brightness of the Father's glory 
and the express image of his person. Heaven is therefore 
illuminated not only with God's glory, but with the brightness 
of his glory, with the brightest and most dazzling eflTulgence of 
divine, uncreated light, a light which enlightens and cheers the 
soul, as well as the body. Of the nature and degree of this 
light, who but the happy beings that enjoy it can form any con- 
ception. There are indeed several passages in Scripture, which 
seem intended to give us some idea of it, but they serve little 
more than to convince us that it is altogether inconceivable. 

For instance, St. John informs us, that he saw in vision a 
mighty angel come down from heaven, and that the earth was 



THE NEW JERUSALEM. 577 

lightened with his glory. But if the glory of a single angel was 
sufficient to lighten the earth, what must be the glory of the 
Lord of angels; and how overpowering the hght of heaven, 
where millions of angels continually reside, and God and the 
Lamb display their brightest glories! 

Again : When Christ appeared to the same apostle, his eyes 
were as a flame of fire, and his feet as brass glowing in a fur- 
nace, and his countenance^ the sun shining in his strength; so 
that, unable to support the sight, St. John fell at his feet as dead. 
But if his glories were thus overpowering when, in condescen- 
sion to the weakness of his servant, he drew a veil over them, 
what must they be in the regions above, where they are seen in 
all their brightness, without any interposing veil? 

Once more : When Moses came down from the mount, after 
a short interview with God, his face shone with a lustre so 
dazzling, that even his brother and the elders of Israel were 
unable to gaze upon it. But if a transient view of the glory of 
God, seen as it were through a glass darkly, could impart such 
a lustre to a piece of animated clay, what insufferable splendor 
must the constant presence of Jehovah give to the diamond 
walls, the pearly gates, and the golden streets of the New Jeru- 
salem ? How must they glow and shine, as in a furnace, when 
the Sun of Righteousness pours upon them his effulgent beams, 
in a full tide of glory ! and how must the spiritual bodies of 
their inhabitants, which resemble the glorified body of their 
Redeemer, eclipse all that is called brilliant and dazzling on 
earth 7 We are indeed assured that all the righteous shall shine 
forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father, and as the 
brightness of the firmament for ever and ever. Say then, my 
friends, does the New Jerusalem need any created luminaries to 
shine in it, or do its inhabitants need the light of the sun, when 
every individual among them is himself a sun? Not only the 
moon, but the sun itself would be invisible, amid these celestial 
glories; or if visible, it would appear only as a cloud, or a dark 
spot on the face of the celestial sky. Then, says the prophet, 
shall the moon be confounded and the sun ashamed, when the 
Lord of Hosts shall reign in Mount Zion, and in Jerusalem, and 
before his ancients gloriously. 

As the inhabitants of heaven will not need the light of crea- 
ted luminaries: so, we may add, they will no more need the 

VOL. I, 73 



578 THE NEW JERUSALEM. 

assistance of human teachers, or of the means of grace. These 
means are often compared to the sun and moon by the inspired 
writers, because they are instrumental in imparting spiritual 
light and knowledge to the church, as the sun is in giving light 
to the world ; and because the light which they convey to be- 
lievers, is no less necessary to their souls, than the light of the 
sun is to their bodies. But however necessary these means may 
be to the church on earth, they will Jdc entirely needless to the 
church in heaven; for when that wnich is perfect is come, then 
that which is in part shall be done away; and the word of God, 
the sacrament of the supper, and the Lord's day; however well 
calculated they may be to strengthen the faith and hopes of 
Christians here, will be of no use when faith is changed to sight, 
and hope to fruition. Hence the prophet informs God's people, 
that when that happy time shall arrive, the sun shall no longer 
be their light by day. neither for brightness shall the moon give 
them light; but the Lord shall be unto them an everlasting light, 
and their God their glory; that is, they shall no longer be indebt- 
ed to human teachers, or created means for light and instruction; 
but see and be taught by God himself. The spiritual light which 
they will then enjoy, will as far exceed that with which they 
are at present favored, as the glory of God and the Ijamb exceeds 
the glory of the natural sun; and their advances in divine 
knowledge will be proportionally rapid and extensive. The 
prophet Isaiah, when speaking of the increased privileges and 
means of grace which Christians will enjoy even in this world, 
in the latter ages of the church, informs us that the light of the 
moon shall then be as the light of the sun, and the light of the 
sun seven fold, as the light of seven days. 

But if the church is hereafter to be favored with such increas- 
ed degrees of spiritual light and divine knowledge, even on 
earth, who can conceive of the light which the church in heaven 
enjoys, where they see God as he is, and know him even as 
they are known. Well may it be said of those who enjoy this^ 
that they have no need of the spiritual sun or moon, or of those 
burning and shining lights which God has placed in his golden 
candlestick to enlighten the church on earth. 

Little do they need human teachers, who know incomparably 
more of divine things than all the prophets and apostles united 
Knew, while here below. Little do they need the Bible, who 



THE NEW JERUSALEM. 5T9 

have forever escaped all its threatenings, who are enjoying all 
its promises, who intuitively understand all its doctrines, and 
who have arrived at that heaven to which it points out the way. 
Little do they need the Sabbath or the symbols of Christ's cru- 
cified body, who enjoy an everlasting Sabbath, and behold face 
to face the glorified body of their Redeemer. Do we need a 
candle when the sun shines ? As little do they need any of these 
privileges and means which we now highly and deservedly 
prize. 

II. Another purpose for which God formed the sun was, we 
are told, to divide the day from the night. 

To creatures constituted as we are, the vicissitude of day and 
night, which is thus produced by the sun, is equally necessary 
and agreeable; and we ought ever to remember and acknowledge 
the wisdom and goodness to which it is owing. Our bodies and 
our minds are soon fatigued, and indispensably require the re- 
freshment of sleep. For taking this refreshment, the silence and 
darkness of night afford an opportunity peculiarly favorable, an 
opportunity which we should seek in vain, were the earth en- 
lightened with continual day. "As the mother," says a beautiful 
writer, "as the mother moveth about her house, with her finger 
on her lips, and stilleth every noise, that her infant may not be 
disturbed, as she draweth the curtains around its bed, and shut- 
teth out the light from its tender eyes; so God draweth the 
curtains of darkness around us; so he maketh all things to be 
hushed and still, that his great family may sleep in peace." 
But though while we thus need the refreshment of sleep, the 
goodness of God appears in providing a proper season for its 
enjoyment, yet we may easily perceive that it would be a great 
privilege to be freed from the necessity of sleeping, and especially 
from that subjection to Aveariness and fatigue which occasion the 
necessity. At present, almost one-third of our time is lost in 
slumber; and our most important business, our most interesting 
pursuits, our greatest pleasures, are continually interrupted by 
its necessary recurrence. But with the inhabitants of heaven 
this is not the case. They neither need nor know the vicissitude 
of day and night. The spirits of the just made perfect are 
already like the angels; and their bodies, though soAvn in weak- 
ness, will be raised in power, incapable alike, of weariness, 
sickness or pain. Do the rays of light grow weary in their 



580 THE NEW JERUSALEM, 

flight from the sun 7 or does the thunder-bolt need to pause and 
seek refreshment, in the midst of its career? As httle do the 
inhabitants of heaven become weary in praising and enjoying 
God. As httle do they need refreshment or repose ; for their 
spiritual bodies will be far more active, and refined than the 
purest light; and their labor itself will be the sweetest rest. 
Hence heaven is styled the rest which remains for God's people, 
and they are represented as serving him unceasingly in his 
temple above. They will not therefore, lose a third part of 
eternity in sleep. No night will be necessary to refresh them ; 
the pulse of immortality will beat strong in every vein; the gol- 
den harp will never drop from their hands; their tongues will 
never grow weary of extolling their God and Redeemer, but will 
through eternity pour forth songs of praise as unceasing as the 
displays of those glories which excite them. And as they will 
need no nights, so they will have none. St. John, once and 
again assures us, that there shall be no night there; and the 
prophet Isaiah, in allusion to the same thing, says to the church, 
Thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon with- 
draw itself; but the Lord shall be to thee an everlasting light. 
Where God is the sun, there can indeed be no night ; for his 
glory cannot be eclipsed or diminished. He must shine in all 
the ineffable brightness of the Godhead, without diminution, 
without interruption and without end; and will thus shine in 
those regions of eternal day, when all the lamps of heaven are 
extinguished in everlasting night. 

How little then do the mansions which are illuminated by 
his glory need the revolving sun, or the changeable moon, to 
enlighten them. 

ni. Another purpose for which the heavenly bodies were 
created, was to serve for signs, and for the regulation of the sea- 
sons. In this, as in other respects, they are eminently useful to 
a world like ours. The heat of the sun is no less necessary, 
than its light; but the convenience and happiness of man require 
that this heat should be communicated to us in different degrees, 
at different periods. An uninterrupted spring, summer, or 
autumn, and still more a perpetual winter, would prove injurious 
and destructive in the highest degree. Yet all these seasons 
are useful in their turn; even winter, the least pleasing of the 
four, is no less necessary to the earth, exhausted by the fertility 



THE NEW JERUSALEM. 581 

of autumn, than sleep is to man, wearied by the labors of the 
day. That this agreeable and necessary vicissitude of the 
seasons, is occasioned by the different positions of our world 
with respect to the sun, you need not be told; and the wisdom 
and goodness, which have thus provided a season for every 
purpose, are equally obvious. 

The heavenly bodies, we are informed, are also appointed for 
signs. By their apparent changes of place, and by the different 
appearances which they produce in the atmosphere, they point 
out the proper time for various operations: guide the mariner in 
his pathless way through the deep, and assist him, as well as 
the husbandman, to foresee in some measure those changes in 
the weather, which may prove either beneficial or injurious. 
Hence our Saviour observes to the pharisees, that they could 
discover the face of the sky, and even the irrational animals 
are guided and directed with respect to their motions; for says 
the prophet, The stork in the heavens knoweth her appointed 
time; the turtle, the crane and the swallow observe the time of 
their coming. But however necessary the celestial luminaries 
•may be for signs and seasons on earth, they are needed for neith- 
er of these purposes by the inhabitants of heaven. They need 
no pole star to guide their rapid flight through the immeasura- 
ble ocean of etherial space; for God, their sun, is every where, 
and where he is, there is heaven ; there they are at home. They 
need no signs to warn them of approaching storms, or impend- 
ing dangers ; for they enjoy uninterrupted sunshine and perpet- 
ual peace. No storms, no dangers invade their mansions of 
eternal rest. The sun, says St. John, shall not light on them 
nor any heat. Nor will they need the vicissitude of seasons. 
The heavenly world requires not the rest which winter gives to 
render it fruitful. The tree of life, which produces twelve man- 
ner of fruits, yields its fruits every month; such fruit as angels 
eat, and at its root the river of life continually flows. They 
shall therefore hunger no more, neither thirst any more, for the 
Lamb shall feed them, and lead them to fountains of living 
waters ; and he that sitteth on the throne shall dwell among 
them, and wipe away all tears from their eyes. No passing 
cloud will ever veil even for a moment his soul-enrapturing, life- 
giving beams, which banish winter as well as night from heav- 
en. No chilling blasts shall cool their fervor ; no sudden show- 



682 THE NEW JERUSALEM. 

ers extinguish the flame of love which glows in celestial bosoms, 
but the rainbow shall ever encircle the throne, and spring, sum- 
mer, and autumn, all united into one, eternally prevail. Surely 
then, the New Jerusalem needs not the sun for seasons or signs. 
IV. Lastly: Another purpose for which the heavenly bodies 
were created, was to show the flight, and mark the divisions of 
time. For this, as well as for other purposes, they are highly 
necessary to man. Were there no such divisions of time, as 
days and years, we should probably think even less of its flight, 
than we do at present; we could only form uncertain conjectures 
respecting either the portion of our lives, that had elapsed, or 
that which probably might remain ; and should find it far more 
difficult, than we now do, so to number our days as to apply 
our hearts to wisdom. Were it not for the changes which in- 
creasing age produces in our bodies, we should scarcely realize 
that we were growing older; and our sands would probably be 
run out, ere we suspected that one half of them were spent. 
Christians could not then be comforted, nor sinners alarmed, by 
the reflection, that they were one day or one year nearer to 
death ; conscience would lose half its power, and the ambassa- 
dors of Christ be deprived of one of their most effectual weapons. 
In addition, the past history of the church and the world would 
be involved in inextricable perplexity, uncertainty and confu- 
sion ; no past or future period of time could be marked with 
precision, and the portion which has elapsed since the creation 
of the world, or the birth of our Saviour, '».ould not be ascer- 
tained : the word of God would lose much of its value ; and the 
approach of events foretold in prophecy could not be known till 
they actually arrived. But though such divisions of time, as 
days and years, are thus necessary on earth, they will be per- 
fectly needless to the inhabitants of heaven. With them, time 
has ended and eternity begun; and eternity neither needs, nor is 
capable of division. They know with the utmost certainty, 
that their happiness will never, never end. Why then should 
they wish to know, what possible advantage could it be to them 
to know, at any given period, how many days or years had 
passed away since they arrived in heaven 7 Even were such 
divisions of time known there, they could find no leisure to 
count them ; or should they attempt it, they would soon find it 
impossible. Successive millions of ages will there fly so rapidly 



THE NEW JERUSALEM. 683 

away, that even the continually expanding minds of the blessed, 
would soon become unable to enumerate or even to conceive of 
their number; and they would be lost and overwhelmed in 
attempting to measure the duration of their own existence. You 
have doubtless, my friends, often observed that, when your 
minds have been intently or pleasingly occupied, you have be- 
come almost unconscious of the flight of time; minutes and 
hours have flown away with apparently unusual swiftness, and 
the setting or rising sun has surprised you long before you 
expected its approach. But in heaven, the saints shall be en- 
tirely lost and swallowed up in God; and their minds will be so 
completely absorbed in the contemplation of his inefiable, 
infinite, uncreated glories, that they will be totally unconscious 
how time, or rather how eternity passes ; and not only years, 
but millions of ages, such as we call ages, will be flown ere they 
are aware. Thus a thousand years will seem to them but as 
one day ; and yet so great, so ecstatic will be their felicity, that 
one day will be as a thousand years. And as there will be 
nothing to interrupt them, no bodily wants to call off" their atten- 
tion, no weariness to compel them to rest, no vicissitude of sea- 
sons or of day and night, to disturb their contemplations, it is 
more than possible that innumerable ages may pass away, before 
they think of asking how long they have been in heaven, or 
even before they are conscious that a single hour has elapsed. 

But we must pause It doth not yet fully appear what we 
shall be ; and we hardly dare describe, or even think of so much 
as appears. But do those who enjoy such things, need the sun 
to mark the flight or division of time? No: ten thousand 
thousand suns, lighted up, one after the other, in long succession, 
would be h) sufficient for this, and would all fade away and be- 
come extinct, while the happiness of celestial beings was as it 
v/ere but just commencing. He only, who is the Sun of the New 
Jerusalem, is able to measure the duration of the existence of 
its inhabitants, nor can even He measure its extent with any 
measure shorter than His own. 

And now, my Christian friends, you who are Israelites indeed, 
ye who are pilgrims on earth, seeking another and better country ; 
ye who look and long for Christ's second appearing, whose 
treasure, and whose hearts, and whose conversation are in 
heaven ! since you are soon to bid adieu to the sun and moon 



584 THE NEW JERUSALEM. 

forever, and go to those happy mansions where you will need 
them no more, — forget them and all sublunary objects for a 
moment, and carried by faith to the summit of that great and 
high mountain on which St. John stood in vision, contemplate 
with him the New Jerusalem, your future habitation. 

Behold a city, built with the most perfect regularity, extending 
in every direction farther than the eye can reach, surrounded by 
a wall of jasper, of immeasurable height, and entirely composed 
of gold, pearls, diamonds and precious stones. See its golden 
streets thronged with inhabitants, whose bodies composed of 
light seven times refined, are far more dazzlingly bright and 
glorious than all the sparkling gems which surround them. See 
among them the patriarchs, the prophets, the apostles and mar- 
tyrs, distinguished from their fellow saints by their superior 
brightness. See the gates guarded, and the streets filled by 
thousands of thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand 
of angels and arch-angels, thrones and dominions, principalities 
and powers, each one of whom seems sufficiently glorious to be 
himself a god. See the golden streets, the diamond walls and 
pearly gates of this celestial city, reflecting from every part 
streams of light and glory, which flow in a full tide from all 
directions, not from the sun, but from a throne, more dazzlingly 
bright than ten thousand suns, raised high in the midst. See 
the innumerable stirring throngs of saints and angels, enveloped 
in the boundless flood of light and glory, all falling prostrate 
before the throne, and with one voice praising Him who liveth 
forever and ever. Hear their united voices, as the voice of many 
waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, exclaiming, 
Alleluia ! for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. Blessing and 
glory, and honor, and power, be unto Him that sitteth on the 
throne and to the Lamb forever and ever. Then raise your 
eyes to contemplate the object of this worship. Him who fills 
this throne. See the Ancient of days, the great I Am, the Being 
of beings, the Being who is, the Being who was, the Being who 
shall be forever. See at his right hand a man, the friend, the 
brother, the Redeemer of man, clothed with the brightness of his 
Father's glory, the express image of his person. See him with 
a countenance of mingled majesty, meekness, condescension and 
Jove, surveying the countless myriads of his people around him, 
and his eye successively meeting their eyes in turn, and pouring 



THE NEW JERUSALEM. 585 

into their souls such ineffable happiness, as is almost too much 
even for immortals to bear. 

But why do I attempt to describe what is indescribable, to 
utter what is unutterable, to lead you to conceive of what is 
inconceivable ? In vain do I call upon you to see these things ; 
for eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man con- 
ceived, the things v/hich God hath prepared for them that love 
him. And we may add, happy is it for us that we cannot see 
them. The sight would be too dazzling for mortal eyes, too 
much for mortal frames to bear. Suffice it to say, it is a far 
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. It is glory ; it is 
a loeight of glory; it is a/ar more exceeding weight of glory. 
It is a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. This, 
this renders it perfect and complete. Were it not eternal, it 
were nothing. But it is so. Yes, let immortals hear and 
rejoice, that the New Jerusalem is eternal as the Being that 
formed it. 

My Christian friends, is such our eternal habitation? Do we 
look for such things ? What maimer of persons then ought we 
to be 7 How ought we to conduct? How ought we to feel? 
I cannot tell you. May the Spirit of God tell you, for he alone 
is able to do it. 

Unwillingly, my friends, do I leave the contemplation of 
these enrapturing scenes. Unwillingly do I descend from the 
mount of God, aod leave heaven behind. I am ready to say 
with the disciples on the mount of transfiguration : It is good 
to be here. But duty calls us down, and we must descend. 
We must descend to address sinners, groveUing in the dust, 
who are so strongly attached to this vain, dark, empty world, 
that no motives, no persuasion, no entreaties, can induce them 
to rise and aim at heaven. You have heard, my earthly-mind- 
ed hearers, a faint, O how faint a description of that heavenly 
world which you slight, and which you are bartering for the 
unsatisfying, perishing vanities of time and sense. 

But faint as the description is, is it not sufficient to show you 
the madness, the folly of neglecting heaven for the sake of any 
thing which this world contains] Can you be contented to lose 
this heaven forever? Yet lose it you must, unless you speedily 
transfer your affections from earth to heaven, and become fol- 
lowers of them, v/ho through faith and patience, are now 
inheriting the promises. vol. l 74 



586 THE NEW JERUSALEM. 

If you are not washed in the blood, and sanctified by the Spirit 
of Christ, heaven will never open to you its gates ; the angelic 
guard will never admit you ; for hear the words of eternal truth : 
There shall in no case enter it any thing that defileth, neither what- 
soever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie, but they which 
are written in the Lamb's book of life. Therefore if any are 
found, at death, defiled with sin unrepented of, that abomina- 
ble thing which God hates, they shall in no wise be admitted 
into the kingdom of heaven ; but must be cast into outer dark- 
ness, where shall be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. 
There they will painfully need the light of the sun, but will 
not enjoy it; for to them is reserved the blackness of darkness 
forever. To add to their wretchedness, they will, like the rich 
man in the parable, behold heaven afar off, and see others ad- 
mitted into it, while they are thrust out. O then, my friends, 
be persuaded before you lose forever the light of the sun, and the 
more precious light of the gospel, to obtain the qualifications 
necessary, for admission into that city, which has no need of the 
sun, or moon to shine in it, because the glory of God doth light- 
en it, and the I^amb is the light thereof. 



GOD IN THE MIDST OF HIS CHUECH. 



In that day it shall be said to Jerusalem, Fear thou not; and to Zion, Let 
not thy hands be slack. The Lord tliy God in the midst of thee is mighty j 
he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy ; he will rest in his love ; 
he will joy over thee with singing. — Zephaniah hi. 16, 17. 



Those of you who are conversant with the writings of the 
prophets, have doubtless observed, that almost aU their messages 
to the ancient church, begin with the most awful threatenings 
and end with the most animating promises. They, however, 
always intimate, that the threatenings were denounced against 
the church then existing, and that they would be immediately 
executed on account of its apostacy; but that the promises re- 
ferred to a time then future, and would not be fulfilled till after 
many years. Indeed it is more than intimated in many passages 
that these promises referred to the Christian church, and would 
not be fulfilled till after the coming of Christ. An instance of 
this we have in the chapter before us. It begins with a woe 
denounced against the ancient church, and announces God's 
determination to destroy it; but to preserve a remnant which 
should renounce its sins, to which as a church, great additions 
should be made from among the Gentiles. To this purified and 
increased church, which, in allusion to ancient names, is still 
called Jerusalem and Zion, our text refers; and by the day 
mentioned in it, is meant the times of the Gospel dispensation. 
In that day it shall be said to Jerusalem, Fear thou not, and to 
Zion, Let not thy hands be slack ; for the Lord thy God in the 
midst of thee is mighty. He will save, he will rejoice over thee 



588 GOD IN THE MIDST 

with joy ; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with 
singing. 

My brethren, the age in which we live is part of the day here 
referred to; and the language of this passage is God's language 
to his church, not indeed to all who have a place in his visible 
church, but, as it is expressed in the context, to all whose tongue 
is not deceitful, who do not practise iniquity or speak lies, but 
trust in the name of the Lord ; that is, to the whole body of real 
Christians. This body is here addressed in the language of 
encouragement and of exhortation. Let us attend, in the first 
place, to what is said to it by way of encouragement. 

1. The Church is here encouraged by the assurance, that Je- 
hovah is her God. He himself directs those who address his 
church to call him so. It shall be said to Zion, Jehovah thy 
God ; thy God in a peculiar sense ; thy covenant God, who has 
chosen thee to be his people, and has drawn thee to enter into 
a covenant with him as thy God. This relation he sustained 
with respect to his ancient people, before they burst asunder the 
bonds of his covenant by their apostacy. Hence in their best 
days we find them saying, this God is our God forever and ever; 
and God, even our God, shall help us. This language the New 
Testament Church may still employ, for Jehovah is her God, 
her own covenant God ; and he becomes in this sense the God 
of all who choose him to be their God and enroll themselves 
among his people. 

2. The Church is further encouraged by assurances of God's 
everlasting, unchanging love, and of his gracious designs re- 
specting her. She is assured that he has formed an unalterable 
determination to save her. He will save ; that is, he has deter- 
mined to do it. This determination was formed in the counsels 
of eternity. Hence God says to his church, in another passage, 
I have loved thee with an everlasting love ; therefore with loving 
kindness have I drawn thee. To the same truth St. Paul 
alludes, when writing to Christians he says. Blessed be the God 
and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, v^';ho hath blessed us with 
all spiritual blessings in heavenly things in Christ ; according 
as he hath chosen us in him beiure the foundation of the world, 
that we should be holy and without blame before him in love. 
This everlasting love the church is assured will not change or 
fail. Thy God will rest in his love; that is, he will continue to 



OF HIS CHURCH. 580 

love thee. He will remain in the exercise of love as in a place 
of rest; as in something with which he is satisfied. Of course, 
the determination to save her, which this love at first prompted 
him to form, will not be altered or laid aside. It was a view of 
this truth which led the apostle to exclaim with reference to 
himself and all other believers, I am persuaded that neither 
death, nor life, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, 
nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other creature, 
shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in 
Christ Jesus our Lord. 

3. Still further to encourage the church she is assured, that God 
rejoices in his love, and in all its sanctifying saving effects upon 
his people. The expressions in which this assurance is given 
are exceedingly strong : He will rejoice over thee with joy, he 
will joy over thee with singing. Similar expressions are used in 
other places : As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so shall 
thy God rejoice over thee ; for I will be glad in Jerusalem and 
joy in my people ; and thou shalt be a crown of glory in the 
hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of thy God. 
In language less glowing indeed, but of the same import, our 
Saviour informs us, that there is joy in Heaven over one sinner 
that repenteth. To those who feel competent to decide what it 
is proper for Jehovah to do, and what it is improbable that he 
will do, these expressions will appear too strong, and the truth 
which they assert will seem almost incredible. Hence they Avill 
ask, is it possible to believe that the infinite, eternal Jehovah, 
should rejoice in this manner over a company of sinful, insignifi- 
cant mortals 1 I answer, it is possible, because he is infinite. 
An infinite being, must be infinite in all his perfections. If he 
is infinite in greatness, he is also infinite in condescension. And 
all that we can say of God's condescension in rejoicing over his 
church, is, that it is infinite. It is so indeed, and therefore it is 
credible; it is like him; it is just such condescension as we 
might expect from an infinite being. This joy however is not 
indicative of condescension only. It is the natural result and 
expression of God's infiiite benevolence, or ratherof his peculiar 
love for his people; a love whose height and depth and length 
and breadth, pass, as the apostle intimates, our knowledge. All 
the feelings of an infinite being must be infinitely strong. His 
love then is so. But love rejoices in promoting and in witness- 



590 GOD IN THE MIDST 

ing the happiness of the beloved object. The joy thus excited 
is equal to the love which is felt. It follows that, since God 
loves his people with an infinite love, he rejoices in promoting 
and witnessing their happiness, with an infinite joy. He re- 
joices in the purpose which he has formed to save them. He 
rejoices in the execution of this purpose. He rejoices in the 
effects produced by its execution. And in them he will rejoice 
through eternity. The beams of condescension, love and joy 
which shine forth in these truths, are almost too dazzling for 
mortal eyes to contemplate. It requires strong faith to believe 
these truths. It requires a strong eye to gaze upon them. It is 
blinding, it is confounding to a humble soul, to look up and see 
the glorious Sun of the universe thus shining upon it ; to see the 
eternal, infinite Jehovah looking down upon it with ineffable, 
immeasurable love and delight. But what he reveals, we must 
believe, and endeavor to contemplate. Know then, O Christian, 
that, however much you may love God, he loves you with an 
affection infinitely more strong; that, however greatly you may 
rejoice in God, he rejoices in you with a joy infinitely greater. 
He has said. It is more blessed to give than to receive, and en- 
joys infinitely more happiness in bestowing salvation, than you 
now feel, or than you ever will feel in receiving it. 

4. The church is assured that her God is no less able than 
he is willing to effect her salvation. Jehovah, thy God, is 
mighty. As it is elsewhere expressed, he is one that speaks in 
righteousness, mighty to save. He is not only mighty, but Al- 
mighty, omnipotent, possessing all power in heaven, on earth 
and in hell. He who saves the church from her enemies, must 
be so, for such is their number and strength, that nothing less 
than omnipotence can subdue them, or take the prisoners out of 
their hands. Among these enemies, are sin and death and 
the powers of darkness ; and he who conquers them must be 
almighty. He must be able to save even to the uttermost. On 
this ground we are exhorted to trust in him : Trust ye in the 
Lord forever; for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength. 

The church is assured that her God is not only mighty to 
save, but present to save, a God at hand and not afar off: The 
Lord thy God is in the midst of thee. He is in the midst of his 
church, not merely as he is in all places, but in a peculiar man- 
ner. This, he says, is my rest forever ; here will I dwell, for I 



OF HIS CHURCH. 591 

have desired it. Hence her name is called Jehovah-Shammah, 
which signifies, the Lord is there. Hence too, believers are said 
in the New Testament to be the temple of God ; and to be build- 
ed together for an habitation of God through the Spirit. Christ 
tlie Lord who walks in the midst of his churches and who is in 
the midst of his people, when they assemble in his name, is one 
in whom dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, and the 
church is said to be the fulness of him, that is, to be filled by 
him who fiUeth all in all. Such are the gracious assurances 
which God has given his church, such the privileges she enjoys. 

Let us now attend, secondly^ to the exhortations which accom- 
pany them. 

Of these exhortations, the first is. Fear thou not. I need not 
inform you, that there are various kinds of fear mentioned in 
the Scriptures. Some of these kinds of fear it is the indispen- 
sable duty of the church to exercise. There is a holy, filial fear 
of God, a fear of offending him, which results from love. This 
fear is the beginning of wisdom, and is meant by the inspired 
writers when they command us to be in the fear of the Lord all 
the day long. There is a reverential fear of God, arising from 
a view of his holy majesty, greatness and glory. This kind of 
fear is intended by the apostle when he says, Let us have grace 
to serve God acceptably, with reverence and godly fear. There 
is also a humble fear, or holy jealousy of ourselves, occasioned 
by a sense of our own weakness and the desperate wickedness 
and deceitfulness of our hearts ; a fear which excites to constant 
watchfulness, and whose language is, Lord, hold thou me up 
and 1 shall be safe. This fear is intended by the royal preacher 
when he says, happy is the man that feareth always. None of 
these kinds of fear therefore are intended in our text. Lideed, 
a belief of the assurances it contains, is calculated to produce 
them all ; for what can more powerfully tend to excite a filial 
fear of offending God, or a reverential fear while worshipping 
him, or a holy jealousy of ourselves, than a belief that Jehovah, 
the mighty God, the High and Holy One, is in the midst of us? 
But there are other kinds of fear mentioned by the inspired 
writers, which are highly sinful and injurious, but which God's 
people are prone to indulge. These are unbelieving fears, or 
fears which come from a disbelief of divine promises, and which 
are attended or followed by a slavish fear of God and a despond- 



692 GOD IN THE MIDST 

ing fear of our enemies. Against these kinds of fear the exhor- 
tation in our text is directed. 

It forbids the church, first, to indulge unbelieving fears. 
Christians are guilty of this, when they doubt whether Christ is 
willing to receive and forgive them ; whether he will carry on 
his own work in their hearts, and in the world ; whether he will 
make their strength equal to their day, when trials, afflictions, 
and death shall come. They are guilty of it when they say, 
the Lord hath forsaken me, and my God hath forgotten me ; 
and when they ask. Hath the Lord cast oif forever? will he be 
favorable no more 7 They are guilty of it, when they are care- 
ful and troubled respecting the morrow, and anxiously ask, 
What shall we eat 7 what shall we drink 7 and wherewithal 
shall we be clothed? It is their privilege and their duty to be 
careful for nothing, but to rejoice in the Lord always, and in 
every thing, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, to 
make known their requests to God; and when they fail of this, 
he may well say to them. Why are ye fearful? O ye of little 
faith ! Is not Jehovah your God ? Has he not determined and 
declared that he will save thee, that he will supply all thy need, 
and make all things work together for thy good? Has he not 
assured thee, that this determination is unalterable, and the love 
which prompted it unchangeable, and that he rejoices in fulfill- 
ing it. rejoices in thy happiness and sah'ation? Banish then 
these unbelieving fears. Offend not him, distress not thyself, by 
entertaining doubts of his faithfulness, his ability, or his love; 
but rely with unshaken confidence and composure of mind upon 
his perfections and promises. 

In the second place, our text forbids to fear God with a slavish 
fear. This is the fear which the devils feel who believe and 
tremble. It is the fear mentioned by the apostle, which, he says, 
hath torment, and which perfect love casteth out. It produces 
what St. Paul calls a spirit of bondage, and is occasioned an A 
maintained by looking at the law and forgetting the gospel, by 
dwelling upon the threatenings and overlooking the promises. 
We are under the influence of this fear, when we serve God as 
a slave serves a master, before whom he trembles, and not as a 
child serves a father whom he loves, and in whom he confides. 
How well calculated are the assurances, to which we have been 
attending, to banish this fear, it is needless to remark. 



OFHISCHURCH. 593 

In the third place, the passage forbids a desponding, pusillani- 
mous fear of our enemies, a fear which deters us from performing 
our duty, or tempts us to err, or prevents us from making suitable 
exertions to work out our salvation. The fear of man bringeth 
a snare. It was this which led Peter to deny his Master. It 
has in times of persecution destroyed thousands ; and it still 
not unfrequently induces the professed friends of Christ to act 
as if they were ashamed of him. It is this which often pre- 
vents us from warning and admonishing our brethren, as we 
have engaged to do. In this particular, many are much influ- 
enced by the fear of men, who perhaps flatter themselves that 
they have escaped from its power. They do not indeed fear the 
world. They are not ashamed to be known as the servants of 
Christ. But though they do not fear the world, they are afraid 
to perform their duty by admonishing them, lest they should 
give ofl*ence. My brethren, let no one suppose that he has risen 
above the fear of man, until he finds that he is not deterred from 
performing his duty to his brethren by a fear of ofiending them. 
To deliver us from this kind of fear in all its various forms, the 
assurances given in our text are most admirably adapted. Its 
language in eflect is. Timid, trembling disciple, why dost thou 
fear 7 Is not thy God mighty to save thee? Is he not ever near 
and ready to save thee? Will not his love prompt him to shield 
thee from all thine enemies? When he calls upon thee to per- 
form any duty which may offend thy brethren, or any of thy 
fellow creatures, mayest thou not expect, that his power will be 
exerted either to make thy endeavors successful, or to prevent 
those who may be offended from injuring thee? Why then art 
thou afraid of man that shall die, and of the son of man who 
shall be cut down as grass? and forgettest the Lord thy Maker, 
who stretched out the heavens and laid the foundations of the 
earth? 

The second exhortation here addressed to the church is. Let 
not thy hands be slack. Slackness is opposed to zeal and dili- 
£^ence. He becometh poor, says the royal preacher, who dealeth 
with a slack hand; but the hand of the diligent maketh rich. 
The remark is no less applicable to our spiritual, than to our 
temporal concerns. He whose hands are slack in the sense of 
nur text will never be rich in good works, will never be an emi- 
rentor a useful Christian. We may add, that slackness or 

VOL. I. 75 



594 GOD IN THE MIDST 

indolence is the principal cause why so few Christians are 
eminently pious or useful. He who can overcome indolence, 
will overcome all his other spiritual enemies; but he who does 
not overcome indolence, will overcome none of them. Indolence 
will prevent us from working out our own salvation with success, 
and it will still mdre effectually prevent us from etfecting the 
salvation of others. The exhortation in our text is directed 
against indolence in performing both these duties, and the gra- 
cious assurances connected with it are calculated to animate and 
encourage their performance. What, for instance, can be more 
perfectly adapted to animate us to zeal and diligence in subduing 
our sins and making advances in religion, than the assurance 
that we have a gracious, affectionate and Almighty helper, 
always present and ready to assist us? St. Paul makes use of 
this fact to animate those to whom he wrote : Work out your 
salvation, says he, for God worketh in you to will and to do. 
This assurance is, one Avould think, sufficient to make the most 
fearful bold, and the most indolent active. And what can tend 
more powerfully to encourage the church in laboring to effect 
the extension of her limits and the salvation of sinners, than 
the assurance that Jehovah, the mighty God, who delighteth to 
save, is in the midst of her to crown her exertions with success? 
Let me then say to the church and to every Christian it contains, 
fear tl^ou not and let not thy hands be slack, for the Lord thy 
God in the midst of thee is mighty. He will save, he will rest 
in his love, he will rejoice over thee with joy, he will joy over 
thee with singing. 

A few inferences will conclude the discourse: 

1. We may remark, in view of this subject, that all the 
doctrines and promises of God's word, and all the gracious 
assurances of his love, have a practical tendency, and are de- 
signed to produce holy zeal and activity. For instance, in the 
passage before us, God's everlasting love to his people, his 
consequent unalterable determination to save them, his power 
to execute this determination, are clearly brought into view. 
But with what design ? That his people might be careless and 
indolent, and say, Since God is determined to save us, we may 
indulge in sin? No, but that they be excited to zeal and dili- 
gence in doing good, and working out their salvation. St. Paul 
makes a similar use of the divine promises : Having therefore 



OFKISCHURCH. ' 596 

these promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from all 
filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear 
of God. If God has chosen us in Christ, it is that we may be 
holy, and without blame before him in love. The grace of 
God which bringeth salvation teaches us, that denying ungod- 
liness, and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, 
and godly, in this present world. Hence, 

2. We may learn whether our belief of the divine promises, 
and the hopes and consolations which we derive from them, are 
real and scriptural. If they banish sinful fear, despondency 
and indolence, and render us zealous and active in the service 
of God, they are certainly genuine, and we may safely receive 
and enjoy all the joys and consolations which have this effect. 
But if any doctrine or promise of Scripture, any confidence in 
God's mercy, or any hopes or consolations which we experience, 
'^ender us careless and indolent in working out our salvation, or 
encourage us to indulge in sin, we certainly abuse them. Our 
%ith is vain, our confidence is delusive, our hope is false, and 
our joys are deceitful ; for such conduct makes Christ the min- 
ister of sin, and turns the grace of God into licentiousness. 

Finally : Is God, my Christian friends, in the midst of us, 
resting in his love to us, and rejoicing over us with joy ? Oh 
then, with what emotions does it become us to receive and 
embrace him ! With what profound awe and reverence should 
we contemplate his greatness ! How should we admire and 
praise him for his condescension ! With what firm confidence 
should we rest in his love ; with what warm affection should we 
return it, and how should we joy in him as our God, and rejoice 
in the God of our salvation ! If he can love us, surely we 
ought much more to love him; if he can rejoice over us, much 
more may we rejoice in him. O how solemn, how delightful, 
how transforming is the communion between God and his people, 
when he descends in all the plenitude of his love, mercy and 
grace to pour himself upon them ; to shine into their hearts 
with celestial radiance, and fill them with his own fulness; 
while they, in return, ashamed and humbled by this amazing 
condescension, and filled with mingled emotions of reverence, 
shame, gratitude, wonder and love, pour out their souls to him 
in confessions and supplications, and then rise, Avilh renewed 
strength, to praise and exult and rejoice in his goodness ! May 



596* GOD IN THE MIDST OF HIS CHURCH. 

God thus meet you ; may you thus meet him on the present 
occasion. Then will your fellowship indeed be with the Father, 
and with his Son Jesus Christ ; and the sacramental supper will 
be a pledge and a foretaste of the marriage supper of the Lamb 
in heaven. 



ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 



To every one, who possesses a particle of the spirit of our 
Saviour, it cannot but be highly gratifying to contemplate the 
gradual expansion of Christian benevolence; — the wide, and 
still wider circle of objects, which it has progressively extended 
its arms to embrace, during the last half century. At the com- 
mencement of this periodj scarcely a solitary individual was 
heard to raise his voice in favor of the much injured and ensla- 
ved Africans. Now their cause is pleaded with success before 
Parliaments and Senates ; and powerful States make it an object 
of attention in their negotiations with foreign powers. Then, 
excepting in this country, the numerous children of the poor 
were left, without education or moral instruction, a prey to igno- 
rance and to every species of vice. Now, in many parts of Eu- 
rope, national societies are formed, and schools established on an 
extensive scale, to improve at once their morals and their minds. 
Then, the circulation of the Scriptures was confined within com- 
paratively narrow limits ; and of those by whom they were pos- 
sessed, very few evan thought of sending them to the destitute. 
Now, thousands of hands are open to distribute, and tens of thou- 
sands extended to receive the inestimable gift. Then, the relig- 
ious interests of the heathen were neglected. Now, the heralds 
of the cross preach to them, in many different languages, and in 
widely distant parts of the world, '' the unsearchable riches of 
Christ." Then, no provision was made for the spiritual wants 
of our own destitute countrymen. Now, means are in operation 
to furnish them with able and faithful religious instructors 



598 ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 

Then, the descendants of Abraham were forgotten, or remem- 
bered only to be despised. Now, vigorous and widely-extended 
efforts are made, to effect their conversion to Christianity. 
Then too, mariners, composing a numerous and highly useful 
class of citizens in every commercial country, and forming a 
kind of connecting link between the different nations and parts 
of the world, were left to suffer, in their full force, all those 
moral and religious privations to which their occupation sub- 
jects them ; so that they might, with very few exceptions, have 
exclaimed: — We are men, "whom no one seeketh after, no 
man careth for our souls." Not only Christian nations, but 
Christian individuals, while enjoying the foreign productions 
procured for them by the toils and perils of their seafaring 
brethren, seemed to forget that they were feasting on " the price 
of blood;" the blood of neglected and perishing immortals. 

But to this long neglected class of society also, Christian be- 
nevolence now extends her hand. Now, the spire of " the Mar- 
iner's Church rises in the midst of commercial cities, pointing 
the tempest-tossed sons of ocean to a haven of rest above. 
Now, " the Bethel Flag," under which seamen and landsmen 
unite to worship Him who governs earth and sea, waves in many 
of their harbors. Now, Marine Bible Societies are formed ; 
and the chest of every sailor may contain, if he will accept of 
it, that inestimable treasure, the Book which makes men " wise 
unto salvation." 

We rejoice to see, in the "Portland Marine Bible Society," a 
proof that this recently awakened spirit of concern for the relig- 
ious interests of seamen lives and breathes among ourselves. 
We rejoice, my seafaring friends, to see so many of you assem- 
bled here, on this occasion. Most cordially do we bid you wel- 
come, a thousand times welcome to the temple of Him, who is 
no less your God than ours. Welcom^, welcome, weary, 
Aveather-beaten sailor, to the place where rest is offered to the 
weary in the name of Jesus Christ. For you this place is now 
opened. For you this Bible Society was formed. For you this 
meeting was appointed. For you our united prayers have now 
ascended before the mercy seat of Heaven. You it is, whom, 
as friends and brothers, the speaker now purposes to address. 

And why does he address you ? Why have we invited and 
welcomed you here this evening 7 Because you are out fellow- 



ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 699 

creatures, our fellow-immortals. Because you are our shipmates 
in the great ship of this world; and are sailing with us to the 
shores of eternity. Because you have something within you 
which thinks and feels; and that something is an immortal 
soul ; a soul worth infinitely more than all the merchandise 
which you ever assisted in conveying across the seas ; a soul 
worth more than all the stars which twinkle above you, while 
keeping your evening watch on deck ; a soul which will contin- 
ue to live, and to be happy or miserable, when all those stars 
are quenched in everlasting night. Yes, mark me, ship-mates, 
you have, each, such a soul within you ; a soul dear to Him 
who made it; a soul, for whose salvation Jesus Christ shed his 
blood ; and for the loss of which, the whole world, could you 
gain it, would be no compensation. This precious freight, these 
immortal souls, are embarked in frail vessels, on the dangerous 
voyage of life ; a voyage which you are even now pursuing, 
and which will terminate, either in the Port of Heaven, or in 
the Gulf of Perdition. To one or the other of these places you 
are all bound. In one or the other of them, you will all land 
at death. In which of them you shall land will depend on the 
course you steer. These are the reasons wh)^ Ave feel concerned 
for you ; why we address you. We wish you to steer a safe 
course. We know there is but one such course. We wish you 
to make sure of a good harbor, in v/hich you may rest quietly 
after the toilsome voyage of life is ended. We know there is 
but one such harbor. We know that this harbor is not easy 
to find. We know that the sea over which you sail is full of 
sunken rocks and quicksands, on which many a brother sailor 
has made shipwreck of his soul. Your voyage is, therefore, 
exceedingly^ dangerous. We meet you pursuing this voyage 
and wish to speak you. When you speak a vessel, one of the 
first questions you ask her is, '' AVhere are you bound ? " Allow 
me to ask the same question. 

Ho, there, creature of God, immortal spirit, voyager to Eter- 
nity ! whither art thou bound? Heard I the answer aright? 
Was it, " I don't know !" Not know where you are bound ! 
Heard you ever such an answer to this question before ? 
Should you hear such an answer from a spoken vessel, would 
you not conclude its crew to be either drunk or mad? and 
would you not soon expect to hear of its loss? Not know 



600 ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 

"Where you are bound ! And have you then, for so many years, 
been beating about in the fogs of ignorance and uncertainty ; 
with no port in view ; the sport of storms and currents ; driven 
hither and thither as the winds change, without any hope of 
ever making a harbor, and liable, every moment, to strike upon 
a lee shore? Not know where you are bound ! Alas, then, I 
fear you are bound to the Gulf of Perdition ; and that you will 
be driven on the rocks of Despair, which are now right ahead 
of you, and which, sooner or later, bring up all, who know not 
where they are bound, and who care not what course they steer. 
If I have taken my observation correctly, you are in the Lee 
Current, which sets directly into a Gulf where you will find no 
bottom with a thousand fathoms of line. Not know where you 
are bound ! You must then be in distress. You have either 
unshipped your rudder, or you have no compass, chart, or 
quadrant on board ; nor any pilot who can carry you into the 
port of Heaven. 

And what pilot, you will perhaps ask in reply, can carry us 
there ] Who can tell us, with certainty, that there is any such 
port ? On what chart is it laid down ? And how do we know, 
— how do you know, — how can any man know, that what you 
have now told us is true 7 

These are fair questions, shipmates, and you shall have an 
answer ; but allow me, first to ask you a few questions. Should 
you see a fine ship, well built, handsomely rigged, and com- 
pletely equipped for a voyage, could any man make you believe 
that she built herself? or that she was built by chance 7 or 
that she sprung, like a bubble, out of the sea ? Would you not 
feel as certain, that she was the work of some builder, as if you 
had stood by, and seen him shape every timber, and drive every 
bolt? And can you, then, believe, that this great ship, the 
world, built itself? or that it was built by chance ? or that it 
sprung out of nothing without any cause ? Do you not feel as 
certain, that it was made by some great, and wise, and power- 
ful builder, as if you had stood by and seen him make it ? Yes, 
you will say, every ship is built by some man ; but he that 
built all things must be more than man : he must be God. 

Another question. Should you see a vessel go every year, 
for many years successively to a distant port, and return at a 
set time; performing all her voyages with perfect regularity, 



ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 601 

and never going a cable's length out of her course, nor being a 
day out of her time, could you be made to believe that she had 
no commander, pilot, or helmsman on board ; that she went and 
came of her own accord ; or that she had nothing to steer her 
but the wind 1 Would you have any more doubt that she was 
under the command of some skilful navigator, than if you were 
on board, and saw him 7 Look then, once more, at this great 
ship, the world. See how regularly she makes her annual voy- 
age round the sun, without ever getting out of her course, or 
being a day out of her time. Should she gain or lose a sin- 
gle day in making this voyage, what would all your nau- 
tical Tables be good for ? Now, would she go and come with 
such perfect regularity and exactness of her own accord 1 or 
with no one to regulate her course ? Can you any more doubt 
that she is under the direction of some skilful commander, than 
if you saw him regulating all her motions? But if the world 
has a pilot, a commander, who is he 7 Ay, shipmates, who is 
he 7 Is it any of her crew 7 You know, that if they should 
all unite their strength, they could neither move her, nor alter 
her course a hair's breadth. Who then can it be 7 But why 
need I ask 7 Who can regulate all the motions of the world, 
except He that made the world 7 And remember, shipmates, if 
God is here to regulate her course, he must be here to see how 
the crew behave. 

Once more. Would a wise owner put a crew on board a ves- 
sel, and send her to sea, bound on a long voyage, without a 
compass, chart, quadrant, or pilot, to be driven just where the 
winds and waves might carry her, till she foundered, or went to 
pieces on some rocky shore 7 No, you reply, no wise owner, no 
man, that cared any thing either for the ship or the ship's com- 
pany, would act in this manner. And would the good, the all- 
wise God then, who made the world, and placed us in it, act in 
such manner 7 Certainly not. It would be insulting him to 
think so. You may be certain, therefore, that he has taken care 
to provide a safe harbor, in which, when the voyage of life is 
ended, we may ride secure from every danger; that he has fur- 
nished us with every thing necessary to assist us in shaping our 
course for that harbof ; and that he has provided a skilful pilot, 
who will carry us into it, if we put ourselves under his care. 
And. shipmates, we can tell you, for God has told us, that he 

VOL. I. 76 



602 ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 

actually has done all this. As a harbor, he has prepared heav- 
en for us ; a place so glorious, that the sun is not fit to be a lamp 
in it. Could you grasp the world like an orange, and squeeze 
all the happiness it affords into a single cup, it would be nothmg 
to one drop of the waters of hfe, which flow there like a river. 
For a commander and pilot, he has given us his own Son, Jesus 
Christ, the Captain of salvation; beyond all comparison the 
most skilful, kind, and careful commander, that ever seaman 
sailed under. He can carry you, and he alone can carry you 
safely into the Port of Heaven. No soul ever found its way in- 
to that port without him. No soul which put itself under his 
care, was ever lost. Finally, for a compass, chart, and quad- 
rant, God has given us the Bible ; and most completely does it 
answer the purpose of all three. By this book, as a compass, 
you may shape your course correctly ; for it will always traverse 
freely, and it has no variation. By this book, as a quadrant, 
you may at any time, by night or by day. take an observation, 
and find out exactly where you are. And in this book, as on a 
chart, not only the Port of Heaven, but your whole course, with 
every rock, shoal, and breaker, on which you can possibly strike, 
is most accurately laid down. If then, you make a proper use 
of this book, mind your helm, keep a good look out, and care- 
fully observe your pilot's directions, you will without fail make 
a prosperous voyage, and reach the Port of Heaven in safety. 
It may not, however, be amiss, to give a few hints respecting 
the first part of your course. 

If you examine your chart you will find put down, not far 
from the latitude in which you now are, a most dangerous rock, 
called the Rock of Intemperance, or Drunkard's Rock. This 
rock, on which there is a high beacon, is almost white with the 
bones of poor sailors who have been cast away upon it. You 
must be careful to give this rock a good berth, for there is a very 
strong current setting towards it. If you once get into that 
current you will find it very difficult getting out again ; and will 
be almost sure to strike and go to pieces. You will often find a 
parcel of wreckers round this rock, who will try to persuade you 
that it is not dangerous, and that there is no current. But take 
care how you believe them. Their only object is plunder. 

Not far from this terrible rock, you will find marked, a whirl- 
pool, almost equally dangerous, called the whirlpool of Bad 



ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 603 

Company. Indeed this whirlpool often throws vessels upon 
Drunkard's Rock, as it hurries them round. It lies just outside 
the Gulf of Perdition ; and every thing which it swallows up is 
thrown into that Gulf. It is surrounded by several little eddies, 
which often draw mariners into it before they know where they 
are. Keep a good look out then for these eddies, and steer wide 
of this whirlpool ; for it has swallowed up more sailors than 
ever the sea did. In fact, it is a complete Hell Gate. 

Besides this whirlpool and rock, there are several shoals laid 
down in your chart, which I cannot now stay to describe. 
Indeed these seas are full of them, which makes sailing here 
extremely dangerous. If you would be sure to shun them all 
and to keep clear of the terrible gulf already mentioned, you 
must immediately go about, make a signal for a pilot, and steer 
for the Straits of Repentance, which you will see right ahead. 
These Straits, which are very narrow, form the only passage 
out of the dangerous seas you have been navigating, into the 
great Pacific Ocean, sometimes called the Safe Sea, or Sea of 
Salvation, on the further shore of which lies your port. It is 
not very pleasant passing these Straits; and therefore many 
navigators have tried hard to find another passage. Indeed, 
some who pretend to be pilots, will tell you there is another ; but 
they are wrong; for the great Master Pilot himself has declared 
that every one who does not pass the Straits of Repentance will 
certainly be lost. 

As you pass these Straits, the spacious Bay of Faith will be- 
gin to open, on the right hand side of which you will see a high 
hill, called Mount Calvary. On the top of this hill stands a 
Light-House, in the form of a cross ; which, by night, is com- 
pletely illumined from top to bottom, and by day, sends up a 
pillar of smoke, like a white cloud. It stands so high, that, 
unless you deviate from the course laid down in your chart, 
you will never lose sight of it in any succeeding part of your 
voyage. At the foot of this Light-House you will find the Pilot 
I have so often mentioned, waiting for you. You must by all 
means receive him on board; for without Him, neither your 
own exertions, nor all the charts and pilots in the world can 
preserve you from fatal shipwreck. 

As you enter the Bay of Faith, you will see, far ahead, like a 
white cloud in the horizon, the high lands of Hope, which lie 



604 ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 

hard by your port. These lands are so high, that when the air 
is clear, you will have them constantly in sight during the 
remainder of your voyage j and while they are in sight, you 
may be sure of always finding good anchoring ground, and of 
safely riding out every storm. 

I might proceed to describe the remainder of your course, but 
it is needless ; for you will find it sill in your chart, the Bible. 
With this chart, the society which invited you here this even- 
ing, are ready to furnish every destitute seaman ; and they do 
it on purpose that your voyage may be prosperous, and its ter- 
mination happy. And now, shipmates, let me ask you one 
question more. Should a ship's crew, bound on a long and 
dangerous voyage, refuse to provide themselves with either 
quadrant) chart, or compass : — ^or, being furnished by their 
owner with these articles, should stow them away in the hold, 
and never use them, never mind their helm, keep no lookout, 
pay no regard to their pilot's directions, but spend their time in 
drinking and carousing; have you any doubt that they would 
be lost, before their voyage was half over ? And when you 
heard that they were lost, would you not say, — It is just as I 
expected ; but they have no one to blame except themselves 7 
Just so, my dear shipmates, if you refuse to receive the Bible, 
the book which your Maker and owner has given, to assist in 
shaping your course ; —or if you lay this book aside in your 
chests, and never study it; — or if you study it, and do not 
shape your course by it, nor pay any regard to the directions of 
Jesus Christ, your commander and pilot ; but make your only 
object to live an easy, careless, merry life ; be assured that you 
will make shipwreck of your souls, and founder in that gulf 
which has no bottom ; and while you feel that you are lost, lost, 
lost for ever, you will also feel that you have no one to blame 
for it but yourselves. You cannot blame God, your Creator and 
Owner ; for he has kindly given you his only Son to be your 
pilot, and his Book to be your chart. You cannot blame your 
fellow-creatures ; for, by the hands of this Society, they now 
offer you this book, " without money and without price.'' You 
cannot blame the speaker ; for he has now told you what will 
be the consequence of neglecting this book. O, then, be persua- 
ded to receive it, to study it, and to shape your course by it. 
Become yourselves members of this Bible Society, and persuade 



ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 605 

your comrades to do the same. Wherever you see the Bethel 
Flag hoisted, rally round it. As often as you have an opportu- 
nity, visit the house of God on the Sabbath, to hear what Jesus 
Christ has done for poor Seamen. If you see a brother sailor 
becalmed by the way, or steering another course, lend him a 
hand, and take him with you. Whenever you are keeping 
your evening watch on deck, look up, and see the God of whom 
you have now heard — the God whose name, I fear, some of 
you " take in vain," throned in awful silence, and darkness, and 
majesty, on the sky, crowned with a diadem of ten thousand 
stars, holding the winds and thunderbolts in his hand, and set- 
ting one foot on the sea, and the other on the land, while both 
land and sea obey his word, and tremble at his nod. This, 
shipmates, is the God under whom we wish you to enlist, and 
to whom we wish you to pray. This is the God who now offers 
to be the poor sailor's friend ; and who, in all your voyages, can 
carry you out in safety, and bring you home in peace. This 
too, is the God whom we shall all one day see coming in the 
clouds of Heaven with power and great glory, to judge the 
world. Then, at his command, the earth and the sea shall give 
up all who had been buried in the former or sunk in the latter, 
and they shall stand together before God to be rewarded accord- 
ing to their works. O then, seamen, landsmen, whoever you 
are that hear, prepare, prepare for this great day. Yes, prepare, 
ye accountable creature, prepare to meet your God ; for he has 
said, Behold I come, I come near to judgment ! And hath he 
said it, and shall he not do it 7 Hath He spoken, and shall he 
not make it good 7 Yes, when His appointed hour shall arrive, 
a mighty angel will lift his hand to Heaven, and swear by Him 
who liveth for ever and ever, that there shall be time no longer. 
Then our world, impetuously driven by the last tempest, will 
strike, and be dashed in pieces on the shores of eternity. Hark ! 
what a crash was there ! One groan of unutterable anguish, 
one loud shriek of consternation and despair is heard, and all is 
still. Not a fragment of the wreck remains to which the strug- 
gling wretches might cling for support ; but down, down, down 
they sink, whelmed deep beneath the billows of almighty 
wrath. But see ! something appears at a distance mounting 
above the waves, and nearing the shore. It is the Ark of sal- 
vation ! It is the Life Boat of Heaven ! It has weathered the 



606 ' ADDRESS TO SEAMEN. 

last Storm ; it enters the harbor triumphantly ; Heaven resounds 
with the acclamations of its grateful, happy crew ! Among 
them, may you all, shipmates, be found. May the members oi 
this Society, believing and obeying, as well as distributing the 
Scriptures, save both themselves and the objects of their care. 
And may every perishing immortal in this assembly, now, while 
the Ark is open, while the Life Boat waits, while the rope of 
mercy is thrown within his grasp, seize it, and make eternal life 
his own! 



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